Until It's Time for You to Go
by Hermonthis
Summary: DA/P - In the aftermath of the victorious Cyclonian war, the Dark Ace encounters Piper under the guise of a Talon. He is disgraced, left to waste away in the castle. She is here to assassinate Master Cyclonis. They seek solace in each other, aware this relationship will not last. Warnings for violence, mature themes, and sex. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : Title and story inspired by Canadian singer-songwriter, Buffy Sainte-Marie. I recommend listening to the song to understand the tone and emotion I've tried to convey (before the plot got away from me). Story also influenced by the 80's cartoon, She-Ra: Princess of Power. Dark Ace's apartment is modelled after Rick Deckard's from the film, _Blade Runner_. Elements of wielding crystal power inspired by the tv show _Once Upon A Time._

I knew this story would be a monster to write. And it was. Longest one-shot to date, I had to chop it up into chapters because there was no way I could read 20K+ words on a single page. I also couldn't continue _Rapunzel_ unless this one was completed.

* * *

 **UNTIL IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO GO  
** _Chapter One **  
**_

.

 _You're not a dream, you're not an angel. You're a man.  
I'm not a queen, I'm a woman. Take my hand.  
We'll make a space in the lives that we'd planned.  
And here we'll stay, until it's time for you to go.  
_

 _._

All hail Terra Cyclonia. All hail Master Cyclonis. May the empire reign long.

Cyclonia had won.

The Sky Council disintegrated, the Elders scattered to the four corners of the winds. The Federation of the Sky Knights broken beyond repair, and Terra Atmosia destroyed.

And he watched her mature. She grew in height and weight but barely filled out the teenage lines of her body with the underwhelming body mass of a young woman. Her hair remained purple but it was longer now, ended a few inches below the line of her shoulders. The ends would have curled inwards into a gentle wave, a fetching feminine bob if she cared about her appearance. Washed her hair more often. Brushed it out.

She didn't. Didn't particularly care about the way she presented herself. She was queen here, and she needed to please no one.

A mole on upper part of of her left cheek. A tiny beauty mark.

Master Cyclonis would have been considered beautiful, angular and severe, were it not her crystals. She walked like a royal, commanded like a god, and loved none. Not even him, anymore. The Empire was her life, and her life was paramount to all. An early victory spoiled the once-teenage girl, molded her into a paranoid, narcissistic ruler, and the only thing she trusted these days had no heart to speak of.

The army declared fealty to her, undying loyalty to their Master.

He had done the same.

In turn she ruled them all with solid cement in her heart and steel in her hands. Guided the world from her citadel of stone, her purple eyes gleamed with power. It had been years since her triumph but a small irritation nagged away at her. Like a scab that wouldn't fully heal, she picked at it, at those who dared defy her.

The Rebellion itched away at her. Got under her skin. The fools. They still fought for a Free Atmos. Still rallied the cry underneath their mishmash of different flags, different nations. Merbs, Wallops, Blizzarians, and Humans. And more. There were whispers of more towns defecting to the opposition. More rebels. More agitators.

Fiddling with the dried skin around her chipped, yellow fingernails, the queen sighed distressingly. How bothersome the rabble had become, they poked at her sides and stole her property. Rescued small villages from her Talons, stole her prisoners from Terra Zartacla. She had to relieve Mr. Moss from his position as Warden, the chubby man proved to be more effort than his worth. Good help was so hard to find, and the run of an empire could not be left to an overconfident group of self-serving ninnies.

She stroked a Striker crystal against her clothed thigh. Master Cyclonis sat upon her arched throne, the spokes rose tall above her head like a crown, and she moaned. The cold permeated the fabric, chilled her exceptionally pale skin with a lovely shiver.

Crystals. Minerals. Gemstones.

The true source of her power. The things she truly loved, the ones who would never fail her. Her crystal mastery was the sole reason she won the old wars – and the queen trembled, recalled the feel of The Binding. It felt absolutely wonderful. A dark rush of the blood, the high she never wanted to end. The woman's brow lowered into a pensive frown, instantaneously remembered she never performed that particular magic again. A tragedy for one who loved power. The Dark Ace was useless now. Cast aside, shunned.

If she cared enough she would have known her first champion still roamed the halls. Walked without purpose, torpid and lethargic.

The crystal glowed as she rubbed it against her knee. It slipped out of her hand as her eyes fluttered closed as if in a daze. As it clattered to the ground it tinkled and echoed throughout the throne room. A crooked smile appeared on her desiccated lips. Crystals made her sigh, made her happy.

There were never enough.

Her chambers were filled with crystals of all colours, all sizes. All kinds. A connoisseur of power, she rarely went without one of her cool stones on her person. If she did, she screeched and screamed at whichever Talon guard was close by and the soldier was obliged to follow their Master back to her rooms. Wait outside the door, stand at the ready, while she eyed her hoard greedily from within.

They protected her, made her feel invincible. No one else was allowed to relish such supreme beauty. The spectrum of colours mesmerized the queen, gushed a technicolour life behind her purple irises as she ruled the grey walls of her kingdom.

* * *

The Dark Ace – in name only if not in favour, returned to his chambers in a stupor. At one thousand square feet his private quarters were in no means extravagant, but it was comfortable. Groggy. Far away from the throne room and the tower of Master Cyclonis, situated in the dusty west-facing corner of the aged castle. His windows overlooked the rusty terrain of the windy deserts outside, the line of the horizon being the edge of the terra, before the floating island dropped off suddenly into the Wastelands below.

His rooms oozed forced retirement. A bachelor to the end, he ran a hand over his drooping eyes and exhaled. Always so sleepy. No matter how much he dusted, or vacuumed, or downright neglected to pick up after himself, his lonely life remained the same just like his apartment.

Gifted from Master Cyclonis, the former champion was stripped of his command, his honour, and her approval when the queen announced she no longer had use for him. He would live here instead. He was getting old and that was enough of an excuse. Everyone knew he was an embarrassment to her despite his great service to the Empire Cyclonia. The only man to thoroughly defeat the original Storm Hawks, he and the Master crushed the Republic of the Free Atmos with the combined power of The Binding ten long years ago.

None of his later accomplishments lived up to that one great moment. Failure after failure, the Rebellion thwarted him, poured their efforts into punishing the man responsible for their continued oppression. The queen was not pleased. The Dark Ace was not pleased either. He was a good commander, a loyal soldier. He proved his worth.

 _Remember who was your partner in all of this. Remember I was your champion once._

Resigned to a meagre existence, the Dark Ace didn't require much. He'd given up. A double bed, long enough to accommodate his tall height, pushed against the far wall underneath the largest of the windows. A bedside table-dresser lay next to it with a cream-coloured lamp on top.

A fair-sized kitchen to the right side of the apartment, momentarily cluttered with empty chip bags, plastic drink containers with the straws still in them, and take out. The bathroom just beyond that, filled with both a black-tiled shower and a white porcelain tub. It was nice, he didn't have to squeeze through the door to grab a towel from the linen tower beside the sink. And he always kept it clean.

The Dark Ace had no maid to look after him.

It was just one big room, this place, with the exception of the wall-to-ceiling separation of the kitchen. Even then it couldn't be considered a real partition, he could see the fridge and the stove from his front door. Half-worn clothing and stacks of books littered the floor, cluttered his desk next to the lumpy olive-green sofa, a gossip magazine flipped upside down upon the seat.

He had an overpriced radio somewhere inside here, top of the line back when he purchased it, and a phone too. But nobody called. Likely buried underneath one of his sweaters, gathering dust.

Isolated, nobody visited him and he didn't attempt to be sociable. Everyone who might have cared – whether they considered themselves friend or colleague – had died. Murdered in service to Master Cyclonis. Displeased her one way or another, and marched to the dungeons in the underbelly of the castle. No one was lucky. Either they faced execution right away or were left to rot in prison for several weeks before death. Everyone was guilty, nobody loved her enough. Every soldier was replaceable.

Including the Dark Ace.

Once, just once the man ventured outside the castle wearing a heavy cloak pulled over his head and hair, seeking to purchase groceries and possibly kitschy souvenirs if he happened upon them. He'd taken a liking to ugly, garish things – like himself. Snuck out of the stone walls and the guards like a guilty thief, and snuck right back in.

-And summoned straight into the throne room the next day. A seething Master Cyclonis gripped the edge of her spiky, steel throne. Didn't bother to keep her anger in check as she berated him.

He was not to go outside of the citadel, not to show his face to the public. What an embarrassment to her, his queen. Did he want to go to the dungeons? If he did, just say so. But if he needed something, just find one of the Talons and tell them to do whatever needed to be done, just as long as he didn't stray outside like a misbehaved dog. Any questions? No? Then get out of my sight, you fool. You worthless dog. Don't show up around here anymore, the sight of his face made her teeth ache.

The Dark Ace bowed, got down on one knee before her. Master Cyclonis arched her neck high, looked away and dismissed him. She couldn't look into his eyes, he disgusted her so.

* * *

Aerrow was her first and possibly, only love.

During the war their affection grew. Their friendship blossomed into appreciation, respect and infatuation, and finally evolved into love. At first it had been slow, lots of glancing looks and whispered sighs behind charter maps and microscopes. Piper hoped one day Aerrow would smile at her just a little differently. If – when he held her hand, it meant a little bit more. If he could kiss her cheek and compliment her blue hair.

Their unspoken feelings expanded between them like carbon dioxide within the red fire extinguishers. It foamed and flowed until there was no space left in their chests but to actually speak their minds. By this time Aerrow did smile at her, complimented her hair, and made his intentions of love obvious when he presented Piper with a single white rose on her birthday.

 _The Condor_ and the Storm Hawks kept them together, and for that they were grateful. Before the team split apart out of necessity, before their humiliating defeat against Master Cyclonis and the Dark Ace, they believed their bond to be strong. But it wasn't enough. Their connection wasn't as strong as the Cyclonians. Piper almost died that day and would have if it hadn't been for Aerrow carrying her out of battle.

The days following were absolute chaos. Squadrons torn apart, terras conquered. But Aerrow looked into her eyes, his gaze soft and encouraging, and told her she'd done well. They did the best they could. The fight wasn't over yet, it just got a little harder.

She smiled to herself, whittled away at a piece of wood that would serve as a training staff for the new recruits. A bunch of farmers from a small terra, refugees who looked to escape the empire. Twenty individuals in all, four or five families. The adults were strong, used to hard labour but lacked the skill of a soldier.

Piper the Storm Hawk, now a captain of the Rebellion. And Aerrow remained a Sky Knight, a hero. Still fighting with his twin blades, still harbouring that quintessential hope. The most amazing man she had ever know, and she'd know. Encountered a lot of strange characters over the years. Aerrow was her Sky Knight: her foundation, her rock. Wherever he was, that was her home.

One incredible day the empire would fall. When Master Cyclonis was stopped, when the queen lay in the Rebellion's hands and the world was free again, Aerrow vowed to marry her. He wanted to do it properly, in a chapel with flowers and formal dress, and not exchange vows underneath the shade of an oak tree in the dark of night. She deserved better and he would give it to her. Just wait and see.

She loved him so much.

Delaying their marriage wasn't a question of love, but dignity. Piper understood. She could wait.

And under the cover of the trees, hidden out of Talon sight, they slept together. Huddled close underneath the dark forest of an unpopulated terra, they held hands and whispered of the days to come. The call to reconvene hadn't arrived yet, and their recon missions were a success. The redhead held her close as they lay beneath the copy of trees and shared the most wonderful dream.

When the war was over they would settle. They would have a house with a green door, and children. Lots of them. Three of four. Afford to send them to school, when the schools reopened. Their first child would be a boy and they would name him Strike, after Aerrow's father. The first leader of the original Storm Hawks. He would have brown skin like his mother and dark red hair. He would smile just like her.

But their daughter. Oh, their daughter. She would be a trouble maker. Give Piper grief with a hard pregnancy and be stubborn up to the moment she was born. Her name would be Cora, and be into all sorts of mischief. Caramel skin and purple hair, she would be the one to teach her other siblings how to climb trees and how to fish. How to sneak into the kitchen and steal sand cakes without getting caught. The one their parents hid in a jar on top of the fridge. She would be the protector. Had the innate ability to care for all.

A third child. Another son. Hawk was a good name, Aerrow supposed. The sensitive one, added Piper. _Little Hawk_. He'd look just like his father with white milky skin and spend all his time with his older siblings. He would be an artist, love to bake in the kitchen. Miraculously never come down with the common cold, not unlike the rest of his family when flu season came around.

Hawk would be the first to contract chicken pox and share the childhood ailment with his brother and sister. That was one thing Aerrow and Piper were not looking forward too.

But what about their fourth kid? The pregnancy that wasn't supposed to happen?

 _What pregnancy?_ Piper giggled when her lover pressed his open hand against the flat of her stomach. She nuzzled his nose.

 _The last pregnancy, I swear_. Was his reply.

 _Better be, Mr. Sky Knight_. She was the one who had to carry their kids for nine months at a time, and then give birth. Her uterus wasn't a clown car. She couldn't lay on her back all day while he got her pregnant, as much as she loved him.

Aerrow laughed loud and hard, choked on his mirth. He had to kiss her after a remark like that. Apologize. Piper would only carry as many children as she wanted to, and whatever she chose he would be happy with her decision. The woman in his embrace grinned in victory then murmured something unintelligible.

 _What was that?_

 _A name._ They didn't have a name for their last little girl. The fourth.

 _We'll get to that bridge when we cross it_.

Secretly they both thought of names, the promise of a wondrous future gleamed inside them like a flowing ribbon of clear spring water.

Three beautiful children. Maybe four.

It was a lovely dream. And it would happen.

Whispering, Aerrow confessed he loved her since they were fourteen. He was so lucky to have her, to hold her like this when others had lost so many loved ones. Whole terras were destroyed, the Atmos in flames. They were meant to be together, he just knew it.

Piped adored him whenever he said that. It wasn't the first confession and he liked to tell her he loved her often, but every instance he did the words remained fresh and new. He was always sincere and she loved that about him. With her he could afford to be sentimental. Forget about the death they failed to prevent, the friends they had lost. The years spent in hiding.

Aerrow kissed her cheek, wished her goodnight, and fell asleep in Piper's arms.

* * *

The years passed and they stayed together, loved each other and fought in the name of the Rebellion. Won small battles, rescued prisoners of war. Flew with Stork as he sailed _the Condor_ for covert operation that required the utmost urgency.

The ship remained the fastest in the world, and word needed to be delivered in person. The radio couldn't be trusted with this information. The airways were bugged with hidden Talons. They had to be careful not to step into the aural landmines.

Sometimes Aerrow and Piper separated for weeks at a time, each on their own mission. That was the worst, not being in contact, not knowing whether the other was captured or safe or even alive. Fidelity was on physical shield against Striker crystals or armoured Talons. When they reunited under the safety of the Rebellion stronghold, they made love to each other long into the night.

And still they would not get married. Not yet.

Six years and still Cyclonia ruled.

Six years their relationship bloomed considering the bleak circumstances.

Six years, until the day they had to part.

The last remaining Elder of the Sky Council had been found. Presumed dead like the rest of the ancient circle, he evaded the initial massacre of Terra Atmosia under the safety of the Red Eagles. For years Grebes kept his secret, travelled from terra to terra with his last remaining grandson. But the Rebellion was in dire need of hope, and he had it.

The old man succumbed to pneumonia, his brittle bones unable to support the weight of a frail man and the stress of survivor's guilt. It had been a long life and it was time to present his final gift.

He summoned the female Storm Hawk. Dispassionately Piper entered his tent as the other leaders of the Rebellion eyeballed her curiously. Her face gave nothing away while she forced her heart still. Aerrow was amongst those outside the tent, his long red hair fell about his eyes, his mouth a thin, tight line.

This mission was Piper's, and hers alone.

In her hands, wrapped in a dirty oilcloth was the only remaining piece of the powerful Aurora Stone. It held immense power but was unstable. Broken twice, it was a dangerous artifact. The Elder spent years searching for this rare treasure and now it belonged to her. The Council, before it was destroyed, heard of the woman's ability to use The Binding, and with this fragmented crystal, one day she might have to perform such magic again. Face Master Cyclonis a second time with a champion of her own, namely Aerrow. His old eyes knew they were in love, and their connection was stronger now than before.

Go undercover, directed the dying Elder. Fuse the Aurora Stone with a Cloaking crystal, a Striker crystal – whatever power she needed, and infiltrate the Cyclonian castle. She could do it, she was a crystal mage equal to the queen. The gemstone was strong enough to protect her against most things. She had to be smart now, for the Rebellion couldn't protect her anymore. Make herself invisible, fake her own death. Hide in plain sight.

There was more he had to tell.

Sky Knights were expiring like flies, hunted down by the Night Crawlers at the Master's behest. It was only a matter of time til crystal specialists like her were next.

 _A Guardian, those mysterious winged beings that appeared to the Storm Hawks many years ago, had been taken by the Talons. Tortured for weeks, the shape shifter betrayed the downfall of the empire. Master Cyclonis would feel death at the hands of a traitor, a hero who could perform The Binding. Someone whom the queen-_

 _An explosion shook the domed roofs of the grey citadel and the Guardian burst into flame, chose to face oblivion at his own hand. The soldiers moved back in horror, afraid of the magic this winged being wielded so easily. In the shadows the Dark Ace watched, his crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion._

 _The Guardian's suffering was long and endless, and he yearned for release. He betrayed his kind to physical weakness, and the empress could not be allowed to know more._

One of their spies, a Talon commander died passing this knowledge to the Elder. The Rebellion cheered at the news then quickly sobered as they processed the message. So far there were only three individuals in the world who could defeat Master Cyclonis. They had to be heroes. There were two on their side, Aerrow and Piper. The third contestant, the Dark Ace, lay dormant and lazy in the Cyclonian castle.

The Storm Hawks had to be protected. Rebels would lay down their lives to keep Talon hands off them.

And the enemy remembered Piper, the queen's greatest threat. How close the Free Atmos had been to winning. And if Master Cyclonis ever caught her, well -

Let's hope that would never come to pass.

Piper accepted the missive with a heavy heart and a guilty hand. Felt responsible for the victory of Cyclonia. If only she and Aerrow had been stronger, if only their bond had been as unbreakable then as it was now, the world would have been a much different place. They were just fourteen then, before they fell in love. Thousands of deaths weighed upon her curled shoulders and in that suffocating tent, the woman promised to carry out her mission to the Elder.

She would become the traitor foretold. With the strength of the Aurora Stone and crystal engineering, even the Night Crawlers couldn't detect her well-crafted illusion. The crystal would be safe with her. Master Cyclonis would never find her, and when the Rebellion was ready for that final battle, she would strike.

Their people were dying. Free folk murdered or forced to become Talons. The history of the world was all wrong and Piper was going to fix it.

God help the Sky Knights. May Atmos protect them from the Empire.

A week later the rebels received word what happened to Carver, the traitor twice over. Master Cyclonis developed a new plan to counteract the Guardian's words. She attempted to perform The Binding with the former Red Eagle. The man had been foolish to think he was talented enough to survive the ordeal, and died screaming in agony as his body crystallized and shattered into a thousand pieces.

 _His remains were swept up efficiently. The queen scratched at a dry patch of skin on her cheek before turning to her guards and ordered another Sky Knight for tomorrow's menu._

* * *

Aside from the weakened Elder, only one other man knew of her mission. Aerrow.

A Sky Knight. The only other individual aside from the infamous Dark Ace who could perform The Binding. He was Master Cyclonis' first choice now. Aerrow chose to stay with the Rebellion, stay out of the Empire's reach while Piper slipped inside and disappeared from the radar. He would fight twice as hard in her absence, but she had to fake her death oh so carefully. With her out of the picture she was safe from The Night Crawlers and the hunt.

Piper would transform into a wolf in sheep's clothing, physically and mentally. Only the sheep weren't so peaceful.

And Aerrow had to play the part of a grieving lover. Had to let her go. The stereotype wasn't too far off from the truth. His former First Officer had to venture to Terra Cyclonia alone, where no one would know her. Where no one could protect her. Where he could not see her.

They did not know how long they would be apart, but they weren't stupid enough to hope it would be for only a few months. When the prophecy would take place was unknown. It could be next year, or in another ten years from now. There was so much to prepare between now and then.

A good soldier could rise in the ranks quickly, but Piper needed to be noteworthy while avoiding unnecessary attention to herself. Blend inconspicuously. Strike friendships with Talons, get into the queen's good graces without the eye of suspicion. Master Cyclonis was paranoid, maddeningly so.

Enlisting was the easy part. The Talons were always recruiting. Evil always needed good help.

Months passed and Aerrow dreaded the day of her inevitable departure. Even he didn't know when she would leave. Piper wouldn't tell him. What if she tried to fake her death and actually died? Why couldn't she confide in him, her Sky Knight? He was good, he could cover for her. Maybe take one last look before they parted for what felt like forever. They still had a wedding to plan in the future.

Atmos, protect her.

He sat dejected on his cot, elbows rested on his knees, his hands rubbed his mouth. Swallowed the terror. Tried to maintain even breaths as panic bubbled forth. More bad news. A few days ago Atmos lost Starling, Sky Knight of the Interceptors. The warrior put up a brave fight, taken out a squadron of Talons in the face of inevitable capture, and fought Master Cyclonis dauntlessly.

 _The Binding required both parties to flow with mutual mental harmony, and if her partner could not be persuaded to join, then the queen would make them. Turn the heroes to her side, and foil the prophecy._

 _She experimented with a new kind of mind control using crystals, something that would lessen the unnecessary use to military force to hunt those pesky Sky Knights. She needed her army to enforce her lands, weed out those rebels. Moreover, the mind control gave her power over the other. One clever brain directing two bodies maximized efficiency, removed all those unwanted inhibitions. Like playing with a puppet or a limp doll._

 _Starling was a hero, a great one. The Interceptor would fight for her, or if she was unworthy of such greatness, face obliteration just like Carver._

 _Alas, it was not to be._

 _The mind control was too strong, or the Sky Knight too weak._

 _One scream. Just one scream and then she was dead. A pity. The seasoned warrior showed so much promise. She had come highly recommended, but the Hanzo crystals embedded in her nunchucks were a pretty souvenir. The queen would keep them, she held claim to them now._

 _Activated, the crystal emitted a power that was sharp and strong, felt like blades sliding across her skin._

 _Too bad about Starling._

 _Moving on. Who else was on the list?_

* * *

Piper's heart broke when she saw him cry. He worried about her so much. She hated keeping secrets from him, finally gave in and told him two days earlier she planned to leave _today_. But now she had only a few hours before a group of rebels went out on a mission, and time was not on their side.

Inside her little bag she was going to bring was a crystal, the fragment of the Aurora Stone merged with the powers of other gemstones – a crystal unlike any other. It had been hard work as she prepared in secret, spent her time working in makeshift laboratories – away from him. She created a persona, a disguise, a plan.

Once she was a Talon Piper doubted there was room in the castle to steal crystals and refine the Aurora Stone, so her work had to be completed here in the Rebellion stronghold.

Her death was the first part of the mission. A convoy of rebels onboard _the Condor_ , headed towards Terra Deep. A rescue mission in the underwater mines, caverns filled with raw stones. A fight, an explosion, and then Piper would be no more. They would find her hair and some scraps of clothing in the waters, but the seas were too deep to find her body.

Aerrow was angry and very upset, loathing this all, but he also understood. That was the bad part. He was a soldier too and her mission was too important to sacrifice. Master Cyclonis needed a traitor to fulfil the Guardian's vision. All the better if it was Piper, the woman who'd come so close to defeating her the first time.

So they would sacrifice each other instead for the good of the world. Told their lover they would see each other again soon, they had too. Both were ranked high on the list of Cyclonia's Most Wanted.

They spoke in broken sentences.

Be careful. Fight the Talons. Swim like you mean it. Do well. I love you.

In their last hours Piper took him to her bed with the intent of making love, but Aerrow just held her instead. Bodies curled around each other on the small cot, they had so much emotion within but not the strength to exchange long words. This was going to be a long separation. Maybe they didn't need to speak anymore. What else did they need to know about each other?

Other than _I love you_.

Aerrow turned his face away from her, buried his head in the pillows when the tears came. Repressed his sobs in a manner most unhealthy and almost forgot to breathe. Gritted his teeth in misery, his countenance betrayed immense torment. He couldn't do this. The man would give anything to be with her, just so she wouldn't have to be alone. He hated to imagine his Piper living under an assumed name – become a Talon. She would have to recite the national anthem and watch her friends die around her.

Brown hands held his tight and she laid her face against the fabric of his blue shirt. Kissed him plenty. Touched his face with her fingertips and memorized the visage of the one she loved. Piper felt sick to her stomach and didn't want to count the time. Eventually, she cried too.

The others were wrong about him, Aerrow wasn't brave at all. Not about this. He was petrified, completely terrified at the thought of losing Piper. How could she be so calm about this? Why did she have to say yes to the Elder? Did she really know what she was getting into?

All rhetorical questions.

And yes, she did know. He did too. But Piper apologized for telling him so late, so close to saying goodbye, but she wasn't going to say anything at all at first. Was that cruel of her? But she loved him so much and didn't want to regret not saying goodbye before – before her false death. No one would know but him. She knew he would still mourn her. Perhaps he would be affected most of all.

She had a name for their little girl. The fourth baby they were going to have. Nadiya, the long forgotten name of her birth mother. It meant hope.

The Sky Knight managed to smile a teeny bit. He looked forward to meeting their youngest daughter. It was a good name.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** There is a sex scene at the end of this chapter.

 **UNTIL IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO GO** **  
** _Chapter_ _Two_

* * *

 _Yes we're different, worlds apart. We're not the same.  
We laughed and played at the start like in a game.  
You could've stayed outside my heart, but in you came.  
And here you'll stay, until it's time for you to go._

 _._

The Talon known as Oriole, was not a Talon at all.

He caught her unaware, unguarded, in the middle of slipping out of her red and green soldier's uniform to reveal the true colours of her loyalty underneath. The soldier reached into her shirt, pulled out a small blue crystal necklace hidden deep within her clothes and with a precise stroke of her finger, dropped the illusion. Blue hair, orange eyes, and her infamous brown skin.

The Dark Ace stared silently inn wonder. A Storm Hawk. Forgetting himself, his hand slipped and pushed the door inwards a tiny bit, creaking. Gave him away.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Piper froze. Left herself vulnerable and that fraction of a moment was all the man needed to slip through the door and shut it behind him with a kick. With a deft twist of his wrist, he locked them in.

With a silent raging scream Piper lunged towards him, her hands like claws, and determined to fight for her freedom. He couldn't leave this room alive, her mission depended upon it. Four years spent here in this stone hell. No one knew she was undercover, not a soul. But the Dark Ace was clever and despite his advanced age, he was still strong with at least fifty pounds of body mass over her. Flicked the key as far away from them, he grabbed Piper's wrists and met her bared fangs with his own, felt the age-old rush of adrenaline that came with danger.

But Piper was in peak physical condition, in the prime of her life. Hardened with a steel edge from a world under oppressive rule, she was not the young, idealistic child who once fought with honour. She did not fight with the grace and master of Sky Fu, she was beyond that phrase. Her cover needed to be maintained. This man needed to be silenced.

She kicked him, headbutted him, took him out with an agile sweep behind the knees. If he gave her the chance, Dark Ace was sure she would have bitten him. But he remained clamped onto her, hindering her movements of escape with his vice-like grip around her body. They wrestled upon the dusty ground, boots scraping against each other, bruises forming everywhere. Flailing arms knocked over stacks of wooden chairs as they clattered down onto the unswept ground, stirred up spiralling clouds of filth.

So much noise he was sure the guards were on their way. He wanted to yell and scream at her to stay still, stop fighting, or else they would both be caught. The guards held no love for him, no one did anymore. His breath came in short gasps, a sign of his weakening state, but Piper was still going strong. The woman was smart, too smart, and every inch he relinquished she took venomously. This was a losing battle and only b sheer will did he persevere this long.

He had a bleeding nose, probably swollen, when she whipped her head backwards and struck him in the face. The force of the blow caused him to bite down on his tongue painfully, and he swore in pain. She was a fighter, this one. It was getting harder and harder to maintain his hold on her. She slithered out of his grasp and in a last desperate effort, Dark Ace seized a handful of the Talon uniform gathered around her waist.

"Wait. Stop. I don't want to hurt you." he wheezed.

The Storm Hawk sneered, hatred destroying her lovely face. He yanked at her clothing and she fell to the ground with a hard thump, twisted around and kicked his ribs. Spluttering and gasping at his chest, he finally let go.

Oh, what he had been reduced to. Did no one fear him now?

* * *

Four years living as a Cyclonian. Four years spent in subterfuge: signed up for the military, worked and trained and sweated under the Talon flag. Saluted Talon officers and other political officials who represented Master Cyclonis, and finally received her assignment as part of the queen's first guard.

She was good, fell in line with the other recruits while managing to show off a little bit of her hidden skills. No Sky Fu here thought, that would be a huge mistake. The younger bunkmates already knew what to expect, having gone through schooling at one of the many Junior Talon Academies.

Swallowing the tightness in her throat, Oriole the spy checked the wall of posted schedule in the lounge room next to the mess hall. A slender finger located her name, slid over to the right, and memorized the concise lines of tiny print.

The soldier's mind recalled the days of training, the expectant line of hopefuls who sought a position within the castle. Oriole hadn't been scared but contemplative. She knew she would get in on her first try, her superior told her against protocol. He was a nice man who looked out for her, and she suspected he was another rebel spy but didn't say so.

* * *

At six foot and five inches, Jack was a tall man with dusky skin and dirty blonde hair. Streaks of platinum yellow hung from the sides of his face, usually pulled back his curly waves into a low ponytail. Said he was from Terra Rex before the Talons came to save the people from the Rex Guardians, and the new rules dictated at least one person from every family joined the military reserves. Mandatory service. He volunteered in the place of his younger sister, and there was a young recruit here named Willow that reminded him of her.

Oriole liked him a lot, but never saw him again when she left his command.

There were twelve of them here who stood in front of the Talon Commander, Goose. She had hard, black eyes that stared through you and with a sniff of the nose, could smell sweaty fear from ten feet away without ever looking at you. She terrified people but she was a good superior. Stern and fair. Hadn't lost a battle yet and captured many rebels for her queen.

Oriole knew for sure she was part of the Rebellion, had switched sides over a year ago for personal reasons.

And they listened in silence as she spoke clear and loud, brooked no interruption as she handed them their new clothes.

They stared at the uniforms with wide, innocent eyes, believed the lies of the empire. The Free Atmos was a place of chaos where nothing got done and no one trusted each other. Under the unification of Master Cyclonis the world was whole again, a thousand different terras sealed together under a single flat, a supreme ruler. The Rebellion were a bunch of arsonists and bombers, who stole from the civilians and kidnapped their parents. The abandoned children had to live out their youth in the orphanages when it should have been their homes. So when you wear this Talon uniform and recite the national anthem, don't forget who you fought for. Terra Cyclonia, your mother, your home.

You were all so young to be orphans, and did you now the queen was one too? Yes, Master Cyclonis was also an orphan. Her parents murdered when she was barely a year old, probably by Atmosian assassins. Her grandmother, the dowager empress raised her all by herself. Taught her everything she needed to know about being a queen. Unite the kingdoms, master the crystals.

But Master Cyclonis sick and therefore the empire is sick, and she needs you now more than ever. She has no champion, no protector, and there are assassins everywhere. Spies from the Rebellion, who plot to murder the queen in her sleep. If you ever saw her you would understand. Always looks like she hasn't slept in days, always twitchy, very nervous.

It's hard being the queen – even harder when her first champion, the one they called the Dark Ace, let her down. They said he was conspiring to kill her, failed her so often she realized where his allegiances wandered off to. Of course he was never convicted, but he was the only one ever brought to trial. She owed him that. He denied all charges though, and our queen couldn't execute him in good conscience.

So all you young ones, and even some of the more mature adults like Oriole, listen up. We are the queen's army, the queen's guard. Our hearts and lives belong to Master Cyclonis and she needs up to rely on. Without her our nation would crumble into chaos and those filthy rebels would sweep over the castle like a stinking, putrid virus, and kill us all. They're wild, not civilized like us. They live under the mountains and sleep in the trees and dig holes to live in. Absolute animals. They probably don't even have indoor plumbing. Disgusting.

Some of you are greenhorns, but you all applied for this position and your superiors reviews all your applications. Others before you have tried, and failed. But you, all twelve of you here, passed. Here, when you guard this castle forget about your differences, your grudges, and the negative memories of your past. Here you are family and respect one another, whether you have green fur or pink skin. A leathery hide. Master Cyclonis is our future, drill that into your brains. She is our queen and our mother, and she protects this empire.

Oriole, come up here. Stand before me and recite your pledge.

 _With a raised chin and shining eyes, Oriole stood tall and placed her right hand over her heart. Did what she was told._

* * *

Master Cyclonis had taken Aerrow. Finally found the leader of the Storm Hawks, a constant thorn in her side. He was one of the many captains that led the Rebellion against her magnanimous rule, but now she had the rugged young man in her clutches, Finally.

Piper wanted to sob when she saw her former lover and best friend taken up to the podium of the throne room, but could not help him. Not by herself, not without a plan. Four long years had done little to dampen the love in her heart. Watched with horror as he struggled against his constraints, flanked on all four sides with armed Talons, and faced the mad queen.

He was supposed to get away, but the redhead would never leave a soldier behind. That's how they caught him, exploited his sense of heroism. The Rebellion won this last battle, succeeded in freeing the stockades from prisoners. They were all about freedom, and these people deserved a life without oppression. Aerrow was amazingly brave, fought the Talons and saved the prisoners. Everyone had gotten out safely and boarded the waiting ships, headed by Stork. All escaped, all but one.

Aerrow would rather fight capture than give Master Cyclonis another individual to execute, even if he was outflanked and outnumbered. Even if it meant being left behind. Besides, he knew she wouldn't kill him – not yet. He was too precious to dispose of so soon, she needed another pawn for The Binding. Only Sky Knights would do.

The Rebellion feared the throne room. Talons too. That was where the queen ruled with a cold heart, judged the worth of a prisoner's life with her clouded vision and doled out the punishment herself. Judge, Jury and Executioner. Absolute power. Either swear loyalty to her, or die. It was amazingly simple. Funny how so many refused.

Piper could not afford to cry out. Not here, not now. Aerrow's screamed echoed in Piper's ears and multiplied within her, decibel by decibel, as Master Cyclonis shoved a red crystal into his heart. Cruel and slow. Like everyone else within sight, she watched the stone disappear into his body and envelop him in a malicious crimson glow. All she could do was stand guard like she was supposed to, pretend his cries weren't killing her inside. Aerrow was going to be fine... you'll see...

The otherworldly glow dissipated, seeped back into his body where it stained his mind. An unwilling servant to the queen, forced to obey her call by her tainted crystal magic. If he resisted the crystal inside would hurt him, squeeze his internal organs until he bent to her will. Eat away at his mind. Her fail safe perfected.

The last and greatest Sky Knight to serve as her partner for The Binding, the only one equally worthy to her power since the Dark Ace became useless. With Aerrow she would crush the Rebellion once and for all. Secure her dynasty with his blood, and beget his heirs. It would be glorious and fearsome, and she would take it all.

* * *

It was all going wrong, so horribly wrong. Aerrow wasn't supposed to be here, he was supposed to stay far away where he could fight Master Cyclonis at a distance while she infiltrated from the inside.

Four years she had been a Talon, worked her way through basic training and risen in the ranks. How many times had she fought against her friends, her own kin in spirit, and taken them down? They could never know and she could never tell. Marched them to the stockades, swallowed the guilt in her throat when they spat at her, insulted her uniform, and told her she was worse than shit to believe in the glory of Empire Cyclonia. It was a lie, a horrible, twisted lie. Master Cyclonis had them all fooled, and one day they would regret it.

Some of them even tried to kill her. Attempted to escape the overflowing prisoners, and with her pale skin and green hair, no one recognized her. The disguise was too good, even the Night Crawlers who intermittently deposited significant prisoners of war barely gave her more than a sniff. That was good, and yet terrifying. No one felt safe around those monsters.

Oriole rarely let down her illusion, could count on one hand the number of times she allowed herself to revert back to her true self, Piper of the Storm Hawks. She had searched the castle for abandoned rooms, paranoid she was being tailed, and gazed ruefully at the clouded mirrors. The brown face in the mirror was a welcome stranger, with her amber eyes and blue locks. The woman Aerrow fell for, the woman she hoped he still loved.

She had friends here, but they were Talons. Outsiders and insiders, working for the enemy. And she had no one to talk to, not about this. When she saw him for the first time, scuffed up and tied up, her heart leapt out of her throat and she wanted to fly over to him. Protect him within the wings of her arms and tell him she was all right. She had been preparing for the last battle, learned all sorts of things and watched the Master, and now life threw this spanner in the works.

Aerrow. Her future, her hope.

Oh, it was all so wrong. He wasn't going to be Aerrow the Sky Knight much longer if Master Cyclonis had her way. She was going to bestow him with a new title, strained to announce the joyful news when the warrior's mental barriers were torn down. She had plans for this one, and it was going to blast the Rebellion into oblivion.

Oriole heard the queen's voice in her head. It would not go away, it was everywhere.

* * *

The Dark Aerrow.

It had a lovely ring to it, did it not? Four smooth syllables that rolled off the tongue. Easy. Some might even call him handsome, and the queen could see it. Approved of public opinion. She liked it when he sneered at her, swore at her when he refused to bow. She liked to see him grovel when her red crystal squeezed his heart. He had a filthy tongue, and it made her laugh. People who made her laugh she liked to keep close. He was her guest, even if he was so _rude_.

So she gave him a gift. An impressive set of chambers to call his own, second in grandeur to hers. Of course it would be a cage, she couldn't have him sneaking away at night, unless it was to her bed. That indiscretion she would allow. Steel doors and steel bars, artificial painted windows to mimic the natural light. Newly refurbished. Rotating guards posted outside his confinement, two at a time, and all the entertainment he could want.

Books, newspapers. Even films. But no crystals, never crystals. She wouldn't allow him to keep his weapons of choice, his twin blades. They had pretty crystals in them, a pair of rare blue Strikers, so she would keep them safe until he chose to side with her. Crystals. Yes. Those were all for her. Anything else but that. All he had to do was ask.

Bitingly, Aerrow asked for his freedom, and again Master Cyclonis laughed.

Such a kidder.

Just wait until tomorrow. It would be a full day, full of training and she looked forward to seeing him sweat in pain and anger. They didn't have to be adversaries, he didn't have to have that crystal in his chest; it was his fault if he suffered. She thought him smarter than the rest. The Dark Aerrow certainly had the talent. If she used an Oblivion crystal on him now, what would be its effects? Would his mind be wiped clean? Or would the energy simply burn his skin to a crispy blackness? Did he like the taste of burnt bacon?

Oh, but the hour was getting late, and his queen was tired. Don't worry about the weapons, she was going to care for them as if they were her own. Goodnight, dear champion. I'll see you in the morning.

Sweet dreams, and think of Cyclonia.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, in what might have been years – Piper panicked.

Her heart was hurting, and everywhere she looked she felt pain. It was this place, this tomb for the oppressed, the castle of Cyclonia. How did people _live_ here? How could they tolerate the murder of so many and still be okay with it? Where were their morals? Their integrity? Their empathy?

She hated it here. Had for a long time.

He didn't know why she came to him, so he didn't ask. Out of all the people she had known and trusted, Piper chose him for solace. He supposed he needed it too, had needed it for a long time but denied himself every opportunity to. He'd be watching her, thinking about her. He was a private man, and there was no one around whom he cared enough to share his miserable sorrows.

Maybe she saw him as a non-threat since that incident when he caught her changing, realized the young woman was really a Storm Hawk in subterfuge. She could have ended him there, silenced him permanently. In that dusty old room he'd seen what the Talons had done to the girl named Piper, killed her innocence and she'd stuffed the holes inside with revenge and loss. Dark Ace supposed he had those holes too. He was certainly responsible for some of the damage done.

If he was still loyal to Master Cyclonis he would have succeeded in capturing her, trussed her up and presented her before his queen. The monarch might have gazed upon him in appreciation, no longer the old and used up warrior she had cast out so carelessly. He was the only one of the original commanders who remained alive by her hand, everyone else had gone before him.

Sometimes they deserved it, plotted with the Rebellion to overtake the throne with a military coup. Sometimes they didn't, like Mr. Snipe whose stupidity and brute strength saved him long enough until his mistake. Until he made a stupid, harmless joke about Master Cyclonis in the entrance of the throne room, played along with the Talon guards not knowing his queen was behind him.

His execution had been swift and almost painless. Less than a minute. He wasn't that important to her.

* * *

"I – You. You shouldn't be here."

Piper kissed him first, dressed in the false colours of the empire and he thought it looked all wrong. She was like a bird, caged in this rotting, mouldy citadel of death when she should be outside this world, free and flying. He hadn't seen a blue sky in years. Couldn't remember what fresh air felt like. His wings had been clipped a long time ago, resigned to his role as the sole reminder of an age before the fall of the Free Atmos. An artifact of the past, buried and lost.

Victory was bittersweet in the end, and so was age, but this woman who pressed her hard body against his, who entered his private chambers without a second glance, embodied all those ideals of a different life. Even in her Talon uniform he knew there was a Storm Hawk under there. Could feel her wings beat.

She nursed the flickering beacon of hope within her breast. She was here in Cyclonia because she believed in her dreams along with countless others. And here he was, helping no one. Not even his old Master. Gathering dust and regret.

Her kiss was so sweet, and he ached with longing.

"I don't know what to call you," he chuckled ruefully, his hands upon her curled shoulders, and pushed her away. "Are you Oriole? Or are you Piper?"

She silenced him with another kiss. The sincerity made his cobweb burdened chest contract painfully. Reminded him he was still alive after all. Like presenting nectar to a blind man.

"Piper. Please call me Piper." She unbuckled his belt now, pressed her pelvis against his in need.

She was hurting, she felt so lost in this great stone castle and she had no one right now. She needed to save Aerrow, she needed to contact the Rebellion, she needed to do so much. The years of clever deception were grinding her down and this last disaster had done a number on her heart. She felt so burdened, and Master Cyclonis had effectively worn her out.

Why did the Dark Ace save her? Why did she let him go? She was so certain of his loyalty, his unshakeable fealty to the evil queen she spent the next few night after that incident in oppressive paranoia, terrified that around every corner there was a squadron of Talons out to get her. Mission blown. But Oriole – Piper – was no murderer. She didn't want to be one anymore.

She waited for the guards but there were none. The weeks passed and still her deception had not been revealed. The Rebellion was safe for now. She was safe. She could continue her role.

"Okay. Piper."

And then he kissed her. Kissed her passionately, held her close to his body with such adoration the woman allowed herself to forget. Leave her troubles outside his door like the Talon uniform she wore, and pick it up afterwards when their tryst was over. Because that's all this was, solace. Two broken people seeking comfort in each other.

"I don't want to see you with this face, I want to see who you are."

The woman almost smiled then, ducked her head in the shadow of her long mint-green hair and pulled out the necklace from her shirt. Turning around, she stroked the special edge of the crystal, let her facade melt away. Her skin was darker, her eyes a brilliant orange, her hair a smoky blue.

He sighed then, his breath hot against her neck, and she released the breath she had been holding.

"Thank you."

Piper turned around and gazed upon the Dark Ace. Pressed her fingers to his lips before he swooped down to meet her mouth again.

He was handsome like this, the dim light softened the harsh angles of his face. Made him look at least ten years younger. The Dark Ace had soft lips, something she hadn't thought possible with his perpetual frown, and his hands knew how to caress. He kissed her deeply, drinking her in, and Piper sighed against his mouth. Her body was waking, coming back to life with a primal urge. A basic demand. The need to feel loved.

It didn't matter if it was just this once, they both knew the unspoken rules of this midnight escapade. This was salvation, nothing more.

Hands tugged at her shirt, pulled the wrinkled fabric out of her trousers, and his fingers brushed the bare skin of her stomach. He knelt before her, kissed the flat of her belly with closed eyes that sent a comet of hot flame straight through her middle and down between her legs. A streak of fire that ignited her passion until it was too much to withhold.

They undressed each other, and time didn't matter. He thought her brave, standing naked before him, and perhaps he was a little ashamed of himself too, allowing this woman to see him so vulnerable. Or maybe it was his soul he wanted to hide.

When she kissed him, touched his body without hesitation or judgement, a little more of his anxieties melted away. He would be brave for her, imitate her strength, just this once. He led her to his bed, chest heaving with excitement, and made to turn off the lamp light beside his bed. A brown hand stopped him and his red eyes connected with hers. A question lay upon his lips.

"Don't. I want to see you in the light."

He smiled - a crooked, accidental thing, and Piper's heart felt immensely lighter. She kissed him again. Pulled him on top of her and they both groaned with the contact. She arched up against him, holding his head gently against her neck as he kissed her there. He took care not to mark her skin with his teeth, do nothing to betray her position. It was important to her. He left no physical mark that she could see.

If he could not be rough like she wanted, he could make it up to her in fervour. She stayed there long in his bed, and did not object when one orgasm ended and another began. She even allowed him to explore her; he pressed his palms against the dips of her back and memorized the shape of her knees. And to her everlasting surprise, she did the same.

He had a faint white scar on the left side of his face, on the apple of his cheek. The beginnings of crow's eyes when he squinted in the dark. A birthmark on his upper thigh, in the general shape of a gibbous moon. His left arm was injured permanently, when she did not know, but she could tell from the way he held himself over her the Dark Ace adjusted to that handicap a long, long time ago.

Their rolling movements were almost tender, almost evolved into a word not called _sex_ – and Piper knew she was playing in dangerous territory. This man looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world. How could he do that? He knew what she was, what she had become. Even whispered her name ( _Piper, Piper)_ as he moved inside her, his dark eyelashes shut tight, their heads canted towards each other.

She wanted to say _I love you_ , and hear the words _I love you_ in return, but would probably regret it in the morning. It manifested illogically, floated like water at the top of her lungs. Threatened to rush out of her throat, hit the roof of her mouth and slip off her tongue. He was an excellent kisser, had she mentioned that? Oh, he was.

Caught up in the moment there was a high probability he would say it too, but only if she murmured it first. The mistake was looking into his red eyes - initiated contact. Out of curiosity more than anything else, she was trapped within his deep gaze. Her heart took flight from her chest. He was beautiful and she couldn't look away. A fatal error.

So she refused to say it. It would be unnecessarily cruel if it wasn't sincere. If it wasn't meant to endure.

Piper may be a spy, a warrior, a survivor – but she wasn't heartless. She wasn't like Master Cyclonis, so consumed with power the woman abandoned and reviled all symptoms of humanity. Here in his room she didn't have to be Oriole. Or a captain of the Rebellion. She was just a woman. And the man in her arms – he was just a man. Had a name outside of this room. Had a life.

Made mistakes.

Maybe live to see his next birthday.

They were the lucky ones to remember what life was like before Cyclonia won. Who could still count their birthdays and smile, albeit bitterly. They were still alive, while many others were not.

The woman slept in his arms, stress and exhaustion overcame her mind, and the Dark Ace remained awake beside her. He expected Piper to quickly take her fill of him and disappear just as suddenly, leaving him with a cold memory of a warm bed. But she remained. Perhaps deep inside her mind acknowledge the safety of this place. No one would think to bother the disgraced champion, no one ever did. The rebel found a rare sanctuary here, and in his own way he would protect her.

He whispered her name once more, two syllables that rolled off his tongue like honey. Tangy and sweet. Natural.

Here he would let her sleep as long as she needed, and he would not interfere with her rest.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _On the Geneology of Morality_ is written by Friedrich Nietzche. Aerrow's karaoke song is _Stand By Me_ by Ben. E. King.

 **UNTIL IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO GO  
** _Chapter_ _T_ _hree_

* * *

 _Don't ask why. Don't ask how.  
Don't ask forever. Love me now._

 _._

He pined for her, the woman with the face of Oriole, with the soul of a warrior named Piper. Looking for her in the castle, his boots thudded against the stone paths as he searched the mess halls and the kitchens and the soldiers quarters for the spy. If he really wanted to find her he could ask one of the new commanders, but where was the fun in that? Furthermore, it was dangerous to bring attention to her, especially if word got out the old champion of Cyclonia was asking about a pretty girl.

And she was pretty even in her disguise. Mint-green hair framed a heart-shaped face. Soft blue eyes. White milky skin that rarely saw the sun. As a Talon she wasn't short of admirers, but her non-indulgent demeanour either shook them off or they directed their unrequited attention someplace else.

Two weeks to find her, only because he fought so hard not to give into temptation. Oriole was one of the permanent castle guards, the ones who lived within the citadel and not a temporary soldier stationed at one of the nearby military bases. It meant he could see her again, learn her schedule, be there if she wanted a bedside companion.

The Dark Ace knew what he must sound like. He didn't much care.

One day simply because he was bored, he decided to shake things up a bit. Rising early, he intentionally walked past the mess hall before breakfast, those precious morning hours, way before any of the other Talons slammed their alarm clocks and swore and rolled out of their beds. She sat there by herself, alone in the east-side corner nursing a bowl of hot cinnamon porridge. A glass of both water and milk, and half an orange. Not many people roused this early for duty and judging from the philosophical book she was reading, this was a habit from her life as a Storm Hawk. A glimpse of the real intellectual woman, not the Talon.

So he took a newly washed tray from the towering stack and stood in the empty line. Balanced a soldier's breakfast on his hands as he claimed a table two down from hers, and sat directly in her line of sight.

This was a _big_ detour, a drastic change of schedule. The Dark Ace did not sit among commoners and dine amongst them. He was a lone wolf with all his fangs pulled out. The sullen one who haunted the castle with a tattered pelt, diminished in persona and spirit. He stalked others to fulfil his ceaseless hunger for attention. It was an unofficial rule for recruits not to engage in relations lest Master Cyclonis received word her declawed pet was wagging his tail again.

It was pitiful. He was pitiful. Yes, he wore the colours of the nation, a dark green sweater that fitted him a bit too tightly around the chest, and a pair of black trousers, but he didn't belong in the ranks. Definitely not here in the mess hall. He no longer counted as one of them, not even by the Master.

Oriole was furious. Blatantly ignored the man who leered at her and focused upon her book, _On the Geneology of Morality_. Fitting, considering all. Glad for her long bangs, she finished her porridge and left the spoon in the bowl; the aluminium utensil clattered against the cheap porcelain. Underlined the passage she was reading with her finger, and frowned when she heard the echo of the Dark Ace's spoon across the hall.

He smirked openly when she closed her book ever so carefully, stacked her dishes on the tray and made to leave. A daring flash of her fake blue eyes when no one was looking. Regretted going to him if this was how he chose to behave, his antics could potentially ruin her cover.

Raising his chin in arrogance, he silently mouthed two words ( _call me_ ) and cackled, shattering the silence of the hall. Only the cafeteria staff looked up briefly, crinkled their faces in disgust at the sight of the former champion like an unwanted vagrant, and chalked his odd behaviour to the other rumours circling about him. Besides, everyone knew the early birds were always a little bit odd. Even if they caught the worm.

* * *

Two days later the doors of his private chambers opened late at night, and she slipped inside. Stood over him as he lounged in bed, held a glowing crystal blade against his throat. With a growl she prodded his ribs with her fingers and dolefully he opened one eye to her.

"Why did you do that?" she hissed, looking very much like Oriole. This was to be a business visit then, and not for pleasure.

The Dark Ace was prepared for this – another interrogation. And why act foolish? Well, simply because he was bored. Completely miserable. No one looked at him anymore; no more idol-worship, and on the rare occasion some new recruit did they were quickly disillusioned with his surly and blaze attitude towards the monotony of life. There were friendlier Talon commanders to idolatrize, ones that provided encouraging words of glory and honour. At forty years old, he was just an old gas bag.

"Hey, Dark Ace. I asked you a question, so you better answer me!" The blade rose higher but the man was immune to such danger. Stretching his neck further to expose his jugular, his crimson eyes glittered in the dark, pointed straight at the woman who hovered menacingly over him.

"Go ahead, kill me. Nobody would care. I wanted to see you again. Do you rebels kill a man for that?"

She deactivated the crystal and lowered her weapon. Taking this as an invitation he switched the bedside lamp on, illuminated them both. They cast curved, elongated shadows upon the floor that crept up the opposite wall. Intending to push himself up into a sitting position, Oriole's hand pressed down against his chest halting the motion. Five crescent-shaped indents marked the cotton of his shirt and he peered down at her fingers.

"You have delicate hands for a warrior."

"It's an illusion," she retorted. Stepped backwards when he pushed against her palm and threw back the blanket, revealed his knees, his legs, his boxers. The Dark Ace sat upon the edge of the mattress, his bare feet planted upon the floor. His hand curled around her wrist in a loose trip. Red eyes unblinking.

"No. I remember what you really look like. You have pretty hands."

"Thank you? But you can't do that anymore, you can't see me again." On her left side the light of the lamp was too bright. It hurt her eyes.

"Why not? Nobody knows you're here now. Why do I even lock my door? You know how to pick the lock. The Talons haven't found you yet, and I promised not to tell anyone."

Oriole didn't believe him, especially when he liked to stand so close.

"Have you told anyone?" she enquired, her voice rising a pitch higher at the end of the sentence.

"No. You made me promise. I keep my promises."

The woman guffawed in his face. "No you don't. You're a liar and a traitor." To her astonishment he chortled along with her. Their little secret. Her body flushed hot underneath her clothes. And there it was, that lop-sided grin on his face again. _Knowing_.

" _Touche,_ Storm Hawk. I'm not a nice person. But I'd keep my promise for you."

* * *

"Wifey!" He cried out to Piper, and he sounded very much like a petulant, soggy man. "Aerrow has bad day! Today is not a good day to be Aerrow. Aerrow need Piper!"

Her laughter rang out loud and clear. Appearing in the doorway of the bathroom, she leaned against the frame with a curled hand upon her narrow hip, and grinned widely. Three weeks playing at being a married couple on Terra Gale, this had to be one of the easiest missions for them. Simple recon. Find out why Master Cyclonis set up a new military base here and report back to Rebellion Headquarters once they had the information.

It was a small house, very cozy for two. Not a lot of windows for two floors, and it had a blue door.

"Aw. Poor thing. And what can Piper do for Aerrow?"

Slumping dejectedly and hands hanging low, the Sky Knight stumbled forward and planted his face – right between her breasts.

"This!" He muttered into her smushed flesh. "I need Piper's boobies! So soft... like pillows. But your shirt's in the way. Be naked, Piper! And I'll get naked too!"

Red hair still buried against her bosom, the man appreciated her small cleavage. Aerrow tugged at his trousers, pulled down the waistband and awkwardly jerked at his pants until it pooled around his ankles. Sighing, he gave up when he realized it took too much effort to pull out his shoes, and Piper remained clothed.

"You look ridiculous," she giggled, cheeks glowing. Clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her tittering. "What in the world are you doing?"

"Love me!" he exclaimed, shook his head back and forth between her boobs. "Why aren't you loving me, Piper? I had to spend a whole day listening to Talons, and they're so boring. You got to spend a whole day at the cheese factory, and you probably ate dinner without me! Why, Piper, why? I like cheese too. I can make a good cheese fondue. Hugs! I need hugs! The Talons have terrible singing voices, and they invited me over to karaoke night on Friday."

They retreated to the couch. Aerrow remained attached to her breasts and Piper waddled backwards towards the cramped living room. Flopped down on the sofa.

"Don't be silly. You love karaoke night. I remember you belting out rock songs with Finn back in the day."

"I think I remember you blushing when I dedicated a love song to you."

Like clockwork Piper blushed instantaneously. Aerrow looked up from his comfortable position, wiggled his thick red eyebrows suggestively, and kissed her on the forehead.

"I remember that! I was so embarrassed, I wanted to get drunk. I can't believe you did that in front of everyone, in front of our friends! Oh my god, I was so red. My reputation ruined. Everyone was staring at us, nudging me and winking. That was a terrible thing you did, idiot. The worst love confession ever. Giving me the rose was better. And then you had to come down from the stage and hold my hand! You had the microphone and I was hoping you'd trip. You got down on one knee! I was gonna die! Finn was making stupid kissy faces behind you and I was stuck to my chair. I was sweating so bad, I was so nervous!"

( _When the night has come, and the land is dark. And the moon is the only light we'll see-)_

Tears streamed from his eyes as Aerrow howled with laughter. That was a good night, one he would always remember. He'd been wondering how to make his feelings known to Piper, and Finn gave him the idea of dedicating a song on karaoke night on _the Condor_. She was right though, the rose was much more romantic and less... traumatizing. A white rose for true love. But it worked, there was no way she could say no after that stunt. The Sky Knight had his suspicions such feelings were reciprocated, but he wanted to know for sure. All he needed was Finn to choose the ill-fated tune.

( _No I won't be afraid. Oh, I won't be afraid. Just as long as you stand, stand by me-)_

"I was good, wasn't I? You were red like a tomato."

She slapped him on the arm ineffectively. Colour rose high on her dark cheeks when her lover dropped all his weight upon her, and pinned her against his body and the sofa.

"When we get married there will be no karaoke! You are _not_ doing that again!"

* * *

She liked that particular memory of her and Aerrow. Living together like normal people on Terra Gale.

Piper was hired on as a temporary employee at one of the cheese factories, and Aerrow had a part-time gig as a parcel delivery man who often made trips to the newly developed Talon camp. The soldiers here were friendly, way more than the ones stationed on Terra Rex. They greeted the civilians with easy, open smiles, and escorted old ladies with their groceries as they patrolled the towns.

It was a memory from long, long ago.

But here on Terra Cyclonia she was a different person. Another helmeted face. A spy in the queen's house who held the secret of the Master's downfall within her hardened chest. Plotted her downfall as she stood vigilant in front of the throne room, nodded towards her comrades in arms as they rotated shifts and marched towards the cafeteria for a hot lunch. Beef cheesesteak.

Shaved beef with sauteed onions and green peppers. Slap on some white cheese, Swiss or Provolone, and load it all onto a buttered hoagy bun. The cooks here added steak spice to the mix that heightened the flavour. The food was better than the rations the Rebellion handed out, but hey she lived amongst the Talons. They could afford to be generous with their portions, and the higher ranking officers dined someplace else, probably in their private rooms. Had their own personal chefs to cater to their specific, defining tastes.

Oriole wondered who prepared the queen's meals, if the rail-thin woman ate anything at all. She was so skinny, gaunt in the face and angular. Definitely underweight, definitely lacked sleep. Rumour had it her appearance was the result of a crystal addiction, and the soldier shuddered in horror.

What a terrible way to waste a life. Enslaved to power and crystals. To have the world at your feet but feel no peace. To be so paranoid you executed anyone who made you uncomfortable in the slightest.

In a time past she would have wondered how so many individuals blindly followed her, now she knew it was mostly out of fear. Master Cyclonis required soldiers, and if one enlistteed as a Talon was a better life prospect over tending to trampled farms. The occupation didn't guarantee lifelong safety but it was pretty stable. The pay was good, and if you had loved ones you couriered a portion of your salary with assurance. Also, having military connections helped protected them from harm.

Oriole empathized with these people and knew many of them were not evil. They just happened to make the best out of their circumstances and chose this. And yes, some of these soldiers were bad, who bullied and harassed the defenceless. They abused their power, but they were the ones who rose in the ranks like fire rockets. Who were promoted to a decorated officer while they lacked the tact and skill. Made it to commander. And then when their smart mouths opened in the presence of their queen, she killed them for their rudeness.

There was a reason Oriole didn't want to prove her true worth as a warrior. It was perilous to showcase brilliance here, to upstage the unhinged monarch. Master Cyclonis embodied many sins, vanity being one of them.

But four long years as Talon and the impossible happened to Oriole, she'd grown to care for the grunts. Wanted to see them take up other occupations and live out their dreams. Find someone to love and marry. Have lots of kids. Grow old and be happy, forget life as a Talon like a really bad nightmare.

They were very much like her.

Revulsion for Master Cyclonis grew within the secret Storm Hawk for how she treated her nation and her people. This wasn't greatness shared amongst all, this was extortion. Almost a pity for the young queen, she hoarded all the crystals for herself and in turn, was consumed. Too far gone to be redeemed, the Guardian's words repeated in Oriole's ears. The prophecy that started this all.

The queen would face death at the hands of a traitor. Someone who could perform The Binding. A hero. The first and most obvious choice was Aerrow while she – as Piper – remained second – the ace up the Rebellion's proverbial sleeve. As the sole rival to Master Cyclonis in crystal magic, the queen believed her dead just like everyone else. The ruse worked. The following years the monarch streamlined her attention towards the hunt for Sky Knights, believed one of them had to be the foreordained hero, and turn said individual to her winning side.

The violet-eyed woman was on the right track, half of her plan had come to fruition. Aerrow remained the strongest Sky Knight of all. He embodied hope and bravery and unyielding loyalty, and he was just what the empire needed. What Master Cyclonis sought in a partner, both as a general and as a suitor for a marriage of convenience.

Oriole would be damned before anything like that was going to happen. She'd roar like a one-woman army if the Master laid an unconsenting hand upon Aerrow. He'd never swear fealty. She was evil. The other woman was too weak, too obsessed with herself to truly connect with another human being. They would never bond. Even if his spirit was broken by the mind control, it wouldn't be enough. Master Cyclonis would never understand how the combined power of two melded into one unstoppable force. Bridges were burned in the castle, the queen didn't have the Dark Ace now.

The green-haired soldier almost dared to break cover, contact the Rebellion and march them through the front doors if she even got a _whiff_ of Aerrow bowing down to her.

The Rebellion had the same intentions. Circling Terra Cyclonia like vultures, they watched over the citadel with a thousand eyes and strained their ears against radio communications for any word of the Sky Knight. He was their last hope to win this war, and the genesis of a rescue operation formed amongst the remaining leaders of the Free Atmos.

Ten years Terra Cyclonia reigned long. Ten years before that came the unexpected fall of the original Storm Hawks. Destiny coursed through Aerrow's blood like the blood of his father, Lightning Strike. Both men united the Free Atmos, both fought in this endless war. And now the queen plotted to corrupt him as her ancestor had done with the Dark Ace?

No way in hell were they going to tolerate that.

* * *

He knew.

Oriole didn't have to be alone in her fight against Master Cyclonis. Here, underneath the ancient roofs of the echoing castle, she had an ally in him.

They maintained a mutual exchange of personal benefits. Information on the Talons, dirty laundry on Master Cyclonis – if she continued visiting him. Not forget him like the others. Oriole refused to neglect her duties as a guard, outright rejected his offer to be seen in public with the Dark Ace, so she sacrificed her evenings in his company. It wasn't all bad, she told herself. He handed his leash and collar over to her, she could visit him whenever she wished. And when she did he made sure to have a wealth of new information for her.

Like an abandoned pet seeking a new master.

What she did with that knowledge, he didn't ask but noticed the changes over the weeks, the months. The change of the guard, the high overturn of Talon commanders. Knew the tide was turning because he looked for it. Expected the Rebellion to strike within the year, and the Cyclonian had enough of his windowless cage, of being locked up.

He liked change. It kept things interesting and motivated him to get into shape again. He strode down the hallways with purpose, chin held parallel to the floor, his crystal blade hidden behind a dusty curtain as he practiced swordsmanship in one of the castle's many abandoned rooms. His sweaters fitted better, accentuated the barrel of his chest, and he went down a belt loop for his pants. Carelessly the old swagger returned to his limbs, and more than once Oriole threatened to stop seeing him if he continued preening like a peacock.

And there were whispers among the bunks.

The Talon named Oriole was seeing someone, or if she wasn't in a committed relationship, she was certainly shagging someone and it was doing her a lot of good. Her comrades teased her affectionately, said she looked more tired in the mornings. Maybe she'd been up all night? Was it good? Who was this person? Was it someone they knew? C'mon Oriole, fess up. They were dying to know if it was true, because if it was, it was fucking unbelievable. The woman was almost perfect and cute with her green hair and no-nonsense attitude, way too good for any of these grunts here. They remembered she almost said yes to Jack, ages ago. Was it him? Did he treat her well? Was he handsome?

The fledgling she shared her shift with on this particular day twittered with cheerfulness. Just a kid, a boy. Clearly a virgin. He bounced on his toes, asked a stream of embarrassingly personal questions from his soft petal lips as they stood on guard at the front doors of Master Cyclonis' bedchambers.

Oriole shook her head vehemently. There was _no man_ , and whoever started these sick rumours was asking for it. And yes, she knew what sex was. No, she wasn't going to describe it. No, she wasn't going to deny being a lesbian. So what if she found certain females attractive? There was a word for that kid, he should learn about it. But yes, Costa was. She was open about it and dating one of the captains. It was a long distance relationship and they had to be cautious. It was bad luck to be stationed here. And why was she gossiping anyway? Yes, this shift was boring but it was still duty, so stand guard soldier.

That night the Dark Ace kissed her first. Knew he wasn't supposed to. Missing her, he'd eaten dinner by himself as usual, prepared a solitary meal for one that consisted of soft tacos and coffee. Completed several repetitions of push-ups and chin-ups and when that didn't take the edge off, jumped into the shower and jerked himself off. Fantasized about Piper, the real one with liquid amber eyes and dark hair, and how wonderful it would feel to have her suck his cock.

Funny, how in the light of day he could be an arrogant prick but in the shade of night he was just a washout. A has-been. A pathetic man who hankered to have a woman in his bed and feel needed by her. Oriole shook her head, her green bangs swayed about when he asked to see the Storm Hawk again, but she was adamant on maintaining her facade. He had seen Piper at her most vulnerable and she couldn't give into his request. Couldn't meet him in the eyes when they kissed. If she needed him, he would have Oriole.

This was a mutual friendship between temporary allies, not a blurred window of two people looking to cope with their miserable lives. Not looking for an outlet to relieve their stress.

He wondered if she truly believed in her story. How long had she been a Talon? Did she believe they were all evil? Was she forced to kill her own friends? What was her ultimate goal?

Was he part of the Rebellion now?

Oh no, he wasn't that stupid. He was in this for his own purposes, assuredly defied his queen without Oriole asking him to. He divulged secrets and weaknesses. What else did he have to lose? Power? Wealth? Dignity? All that remained to him was his existence; and what he had before her, that cursed entropy was no life. Doomed to be forgotten. Loved by no one.

Even if it was just mostly talk. Sometimes sex. Even if they both adored someone else.

It was all so perfect.

The Dark Ace was a reckless man who cast his silver coin with a risky lot. Twenty years ago he abandoned his squadron and a bright future to become a figure the public feared instead of adored. He faced the odds back then, and won. Now, he gambled all over again. With his life, his heart, his home.

A scandal. The tantalizing metallic scent of danger fed the flicker of defiance within his twitchy fingers. The man chuckled briskly and polished both his armour and sword. Familiar friends to bloodshed, even if the metal shone. Once a traitor, always a traitor. He'd show them what he was made of. There was still one last trick in him left. The blade of his weapon mirrored a villainous smile.

Need. That's what drove him. Master Cyclonis didn't need him, but Piper did.

It was time to change history once more.

* * *

The Rebellion was winning. Impossible, but true. More empty spaces in the mess halls, and recruiters worked doubly hard to enlist and train new Talons. Her academies were being burnt down, her military bases infiltrated with insurgents. They pulled down her flags and raised theirs, the original colours of their conquered terras. A spectrum of banners and symbols of freedom.

How dare they mock her. Thought to usurp her predestined rule.

Master Cyclonis didn't attempt to conceal her anger, she swallowed her ire and breathed out death. Charred the living bodies of pathetic soldiers who quailed in her sight, too doltish to move fast enough when she gave orders. Any rebel caught warranted immediate execution after a good lashing and some tortuous interrogation. The Empire was all-powerful, its queen all-knowing. Forget the stockades, the prisoners. Haze villages to the grounds, the ones who defied her. The ones who harboured rebels. Let her commanders choose between life and death, and dole put punishment to the sullied. Show no mercy to the ones that begged forgiveness, because their queen would show none to them if they failed. Steal the young and give them to her, the Empire. Make Talons out of them all.

She held all the crystal reserves, all vehicle and munition factories under her control, so how were those insignificant free folk of the Rebellion fighting back? There had to be a mole, a spy, a traitor. Master Cyclonis shuttered herself within her rooms and made a nest out of her many crystals, her pounding heart immediately calmed as the sparkle and shine danced over her pale skin. If she turned her wrists she could map out the path of blue veins that lay against thin muscle.

Spies in her house. There always were. A month had not passed since her grand (and bloody) coronation without the discovery of yet another stupid Atmosian. No matter, my darlings, my lovely stones. The world was hers to rule, and there were always more mindless bodies to fill the gaps.

The crystals. The crystals helped her with stress. They sang lullabies to her when she flicked her nail against their facets, and helped her sleep. There was a new Solaris crystal that waited in her drawer, and it was high quality. When she held it she felt warmth inside. She was always so cold, freezing in this place. It was the old architecture, she swore. The steel and the metal. Motor and stone. The furnaces were always stoked underneath the castle and yet she shivered through the bone. The grey slate walls blocked out the light but heightened the echoes of the vibrating crystals, filled her ears with a cathedral of song. Such a dilemma. What to do... she felt wintry and alone.

But Master Cyclonis didn't have to be alone.

She had the Dark Aerrow and he was warming up to her. She could feel it. He'd stopped insulting her, and just the other day she swore he bowed when she entered his prison. A slight dip of the chin to his chest. The training was going well, he'd beaten all her weapons masters with the grace of a bird. Those green eyes of his turned to her unblinking, and the queen felt the oddest little pull of respect; it tugged from the bottom of her ribcage.

The absurdly skinny woman patted her harrowed face in the mirror of her chilly, wet bath and daubed moisturizing cream at the corners of her eyes. Smeared balm against her peeling lips. She hadn't mastered the soft, silky feeling of feminine hair but at least she kept it tangle-free.

The queen regretted her dark, sunken eyes but loved her crystals too much to fully change her nocturnal habits. Maybe she should eat more, gain at least twenty pounds so when her champion finally took her to bed, there were some curves to hold on to. Rumour had it men liked that, so he probably did too.

Hard-faced matrons of the wealthiest brothers were brought before her in secret. Master Cyclonis needed to know how to ensnare a man, make him love her. And quickly. Something was up with the rebels, she could smell it like stinking body odour, and she wanted to perform The Binding as soon as possible.

And what better place to ask for advice than from a professional who bedded others for a living? They were paid well for their services, and the queen would pay them more if they instructed her on how to seduce the Dark Aerrow.

Underneath meticulously painted lips and dark, fluttering lashes, the women graced their monarch with their timeless knowledge. Afraid and yet unafraid of her wrath, they flattered the delusional woman and insulted her in the same breath. They had families too. Women and men and others who lived together under the same roof. Houses of fame draped with coloured silks and plush couches and feather beds. Some had children, some still had living parents. People they cared about, even each other, sometimes clients who disappeared under her rule. Kind doctors who visited them and looked after their health.

The worst was when soldiers barged into their homes and under the rule of the queen, forced them to relinquish any babes under their care. Took them away from their guardianship and shipped the children off to the nearest slipshod orphanage. Human fodder for the generation of more Talons.

The brothels were more than just a cesspool of loose morals, they were establishments of concealed alliances and anger.

Absorbing their words, the queen suddenly felt conscious about herself. She was too skinny, too hollow about the cheeks. Men liked women with pretty hair, and hers was lank and stringy. They told her to brush it out more often, perfume herself with oils and massages. A dab of lavender essential oil for the skin to smell good. Patchouli for dermatitis and eczema. Rose water for the face. Warm fresh milk baths. Pamper her body with utmost care and get lots of rest.

If she did all that they told them, the Sky Knight would fall for her.

Stiffly, their monarch thanked them as they left. The women curtseyed low, their colourful gowns swept the floor, their bare shoulders soft in the harsh light of the throne room. It was easy to envy their beauty, understand how their services lasted for generations. Seduction was an art form to them and they excelled at the skill. Almost all of the courtesans sported long hair, and nervously the woman fiddled with her mid-length tresses.

What did her champion like? Did he think her pretty? She knew she wasn't beautiful, not in the glamourous manner of these elegant women.

The queen couldn't remember her last proper meal. The last time she sat at the grand table. She snacked often, had servants bring her water and juice and sliced fruit and things like crackers. Thin soup, very hot. Lots of candy, lots of sugar. Cakes. Desserts were a weakness, but the last time she sat down to use culinary utensils and minded her manners? Who knows. Perhaps the last time she invited a guest to dinner, and that probably ended up with murder.

Crimson eyes followed her from the shadows. He seethed. He glowed with menace. She had to have remained a virgin with the way she carried herself, obsessed over her captive. So naive for a ruler, the queen of a nation. Likely harboured the fantastical idea she was seducing the Sky Knight successfully with her overt power and feminine wills. She had no idea Aerrow was stringing her along, pretended to adore her to save his strength. How could she be so blind? It was all part of the grand plan.

It was because she loved power, craved it and nurtured it – and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Made one blind with the illusion of invincibility. Master Cyclonis didn't love Aerrow, didn't care for the Sky Knight with human emotions. She saw him as another pawn to use. The greatest weapon of all. Another untapped human crystal.

The Dark Ace frowned in jealousy.

He would know.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This was one heck of a one-shot to edit. Originally meant to be three chapters, Master Cyclonis begged to be given more screen time.

 **UNTIL IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO GO  
** _Chapter_ _Four_

* * *

 _This love of mine had no beginning, it has no end.  
I was an oak, now I'm a willow, now I can bend.  
And though I'll never in my life see you again.  
Still I'll stay, until it's time for you to go._

 _._

Orders from the queen. Escort the Dark Aerrow to the Master's quarters, ensure he is guarded carefully and comfortably, it is a long walk from his guest chambers to her own.

"What's the matter, hero?" The Talon who gripped his shackled arm mocked him as the others snorted into their helmets. "Why the long face? You're going to see the queen, right? Is it a bad day to be you? Today is not a good day to be the Dark Aerrow? Does the Dark Aerrow need a hug?"

The inflection is unmistakable. No one else knows. The phrase however altered, reverberated inside his skull like a single ray of yellow light. The moisture of his throat dries and his voice sticks just below his tongue, his mouth. Green eyes flickered over to the right to tare at her, the woman who held in place, and he faltered.

It is she, his Piper, his soon-to-be wife. She is alive and she has done well during her tenure to be positioned so close to the Master. He can't reconcile his lover when she looked this with, with her brightly coloured hair and white skin, but he is sure as the sun it is her.

His heart pumped fast, so overwhelmed with joy he wanted to shut his eyes, embrace her, kiss her, and destroy anyone who dared to take her away from his presence.

Oriole stumbled, tripped over her own feet and the formation of the guard is broken. The captain at the front heard the commotion and turned around, frowning.

"What's the matter here?" The Talon shouted. If the queen thought for one second her guard was late, guess who had to take the blame? "Hurry it up!"

"Nothing, sir. The Dark Aerrow is excited, that's all. If you know what I mean."

Another soldier piped up, deflated the situation as the green-haired woman bent down to the man crouched on the floor. The other guards hurried past them to reform the square, confident their comrade will catch up, They know her and they trust her with the new champion.

Oriole pursed her lips when no one is looking, and silently commanded him to shush. Aerrow smiled wide, he saw the watery glimmer of tenderness in her eyes, and he whispered bravely,

 _I love you._

Her heart stopped. Starts again in an arrhythmic pattern.

Whatever happened today, or tomorrow or the day after that - the Sky Knight was determined to survive this imprisonment. Break free and take her away from here. Marry her finally. If Piper could live here for four years, so could he. He owed it to her to play along no matter the physical cost - because Master Cyclonis couldn't take him, couldn't steal his heart when he has no heart to give. She could try to alter his mind with her magic crystals but deep down inside he knew Piper would save him. She always did. She was his heart, and in her hands he was safe.

* * *

The guards stopped at the heavy metal doors of the queen's chambers, bodies swayed nervously wondering how their presence was to be received. Hoped the heiress was in a good mood, she summoned the Dark Ace after all, and once this was over they could return to their previous duties; leaned against the walls and gossiped amongst their comrades. There was a lot of news these days, mostly about those damned rebels.

Did they hear about that Talon commanders, what's her name – Goose. Four days ago the warrior defected, destroyed a weapons factory manufacturing the newer, updated versions of their Talon batons, blew it to hell with a lot of explosive crystals. They knew it was her because she hogtied one of her fellow officers to witness the spectacle, let him live so he could sent word to the queen. Even more scandalous, Goose took her entire garrison with her, convinced them to join the other side, and the whole lot of them disappeared into the canyons and ravines of Terra Saharr.

Master Cyclonnis was fucking pissed, man. She was so angry no one wanted to be near her, not even the servants who usually brought the cakes. Everyone suddenly came down with a case of the mindworms. And the unlucky commander who was forced to pass the message? The poor sap, the queen killed him in her paranoia. Believed he was a traitor, too. Why else would they let him live? If they thought it was dangerous to be a Talon before, they were so wrong. A bunch of them were thinking of getting reassignment to the field, away from the castle, away from their overly suspicious ruler.

The captain of the guard hissed at them to shut up, they were in the presence of royalty and underneath their secured helmets and thick goggled, they sweated. Please let her be in a good mood, please let her be in a good mood. Please don't let her kill them all.

With a discreet cough and a loud knock, their superior announced their existence upon the steel reinforced doors. Faintly, as if she was busy with something else and couldn't be bothered to walk over, they heard the Master's voice reply in sing-song.

"What is it?"

One of the Talons rubbed a palm over his face, drew in a strained breath.

"The Dark Aerrow, your highness. He's here as you requested."

"Oh good! I need company. Well done, whatever your name is. You can leave now, he won't be going anywhere."

The doors opened and Oriole bumped the Sky Knight's hips forward, ushering him inside. With one last glance the redhead turned around to face his nervous entourage and wished he could see Piper's real face through her tinted goggles.

The doors shut behind him, sealing him in.

Master Cyclonis' chambers were immense and extremely generous in size, but absolutely filthy. There was a malodorous scent in the air, old and musky, almost like mold. It was blindingly colourful in here too, like a scratched kaleidoscope. Aerrow imagination filtered out the hoards of crystals debris upon the floor, on her desk, on every possible nook and cranny of these rooms and rebuilt the architecture in his green eyes, saw the hidden beauty for the first time. Something the queen probably never bothered to appreciate during her rule.

High ceilings with geometrical star-shaped patterns, the smooth lines of the mandalas grooved in impeccable form, the darling of some long forgotten architect. It mesmerized the sight, compelled the eyes to follow the shapes and wander around aimlessly in circles, constantly looked up until one dizzied from neck strain.

Ceiling to floor curtains covered half of the high arched windows, like in a cathedral, intercepted half the smoky light. He stepped closer to the walls and minding his feet, tiptoed around the boulder-like rocks and twirled around to avoid crunching strewn plastic food wrappers. His fingers touched the heavy glass panes and the pads came away with layers of dust. Some of the panes were tinted, perhaps these jagged shapes once formed an abstract mosaic for some of the smaller pieces of small looked out of place. Clear and plain. Thinner. A thoughtless repair job.

The rooms have been remodelled he is sure, but refurbished terrible. So cluttered, so disorganized. Disgustingly dirty. Is this where the evil queen slept every night, if she even slept at all? How could she stand being in this mess? Obviously she didn't care about hygiene, Aerrow identified pieces of royal gowns all over the place, the heavily costumed dresses and capes thrown carelessly over unused chair and sofas. One of these costumes could feed a family of four over a month, they glittered with the crushed mica of lesser crystals. Or they could supply the Rebellion with provisions and weapons. Master Cyclonis had so much wealth and she stashed it all like a green-eyed dragon.

A female voice, eerily sweet in the same sing-song manner, called the Sky Knight to the bathroom where she waited. How kind of him to visit her, she giggled as she lied, how thoughtful and how scandalous for a grown man to attend to his queen when she was bathing.

Aerrow silently gagged, caught a glimpse of his fractured reflection in the rosy facet of an emerald-cut Striker crystal and squinted in disapproval. He could never serve someone like her, never. But as a prisoner and the key to her inevitable downfall, he pretended to care.

Stepping heedfully towards the steaming bath he spotted Master Cyclonis. Naked in a claw-footed tub in the middle of an ivory tiled room littered with black clothing and wrinkled, used towels, she was a poor imitation of a seductress. Nonetheless he moved forward, his face a mask of false modesty and stood at the side of the queen. Her purple hair hung wet over the lip of the tub, droplets squeezed upon the dewy floor. Her pale arms draped over the sides, her thin knees peeked from under the clear water. Such a show of nakedness repulsed him and yet he crouched down to her height.

Dipped a hand into the scalding hot water.

"I didn't think I would ever see you like this," he conversed with the queen while his mind thought of Piper. "I'm not used to seeing a woman naked."

"Do you like what you see?" There was genuine curiosity in her voice, a horrid grace note of ill-designed temptation.

"...Yes.

* * *

It happened _now_.

The time to fight back, for the rebels to give the Empire everything they've got, was now. The queen had grown close to the Dark Aerrow and deemed her new champion ready for the Binding. Taken him from his chambers and straight to her circular throne room where the hero was either going to turn evil, or die from the overflow of negative power.

"Go now," he instructed her, grabbed the handle of his double-bladed sword from his back as it flared to life. "Go, Piper!"

Oriole looked like she wanted to kiss him out of gratitude, didn't realize he'd used her real name, and in a perfect world where he played hero he would have done so, but the Dark Ace shoved her hard against the wall in a show of anger. She had to stop wasting time. There were Talons everywhere and if she wanted to get to Aerrow, he would provide a source of distraction. The Rebellion burst through the windows and the doors like ninjas... or commandos, even rose up through the furnaces below, and now the castle was at siege.

Time for Oriole to lose her mask and rescue Aerrow. That is, if she managed to get to him in time and remove the tainted crystal from his body without killing him – maybe the world had a chance if those two finally reunited. They were heroes, after all.

He was not the one she was supposed to be with, the woman would not need him for much longer. That was fine, their trajectories were separating. He had known all along.

"Thank you," she said, and it sounded like an apology. For what, he would never know.

And then she was gone. Off to save Aerrow, off to save the world.

Two guards stumbled into the hallway, did a double take at the old man bearing an activated sword before they decided he was an enemy and rushed him, their batons held high to strike. An old man no longer, the Dark Ace knocked away one weapon with his blade and kicked its owner to the wall. He ducked underneath the swing of the other Talon, elbowed him in the stomach before grabbing him in a choke-hold. Waited for the soldier to stop flailing about and listened for breath.

The more bodies he left the better. Have the Talon follow him and not her. Let his reappearance form the focus of attention; he always did like causing chaos and destruction, and lead those still loyal to Master Cyclonis away from the throne room.

The man supposed he was fully part of the Rebellion now, actively defied his queen's orders. Assisted the rebels by providing vital information, harboured a Storm Hawk in his bed. Took that last step over the line by harming her precious Talons. He would be executed for his treachery.

He remembered Piper had the power of The Binding. The golden glow of her power merged with Aerrow's, and if she could do that again they could take on Master Cyclonis. The queen had no one to manipulate in that situation, and they could use her addiction to crytal magery to their benefit. Overload her with kinetic power, take the throne and the empire from her.

The Dark Ace was no one's faithful servant, not anymore. What he did now, he did for himself. Once he tired of being the distraction he'd head for the heart of the matter, the throne room. Wanted to watch his queen blunder. And if the witch tried to bond with him she would fail spectacularly. Their minds were not one, their hearts no longer listened to each other. She was the first to stop caring and he loved her no more. What remained between them – of him – was devoid of true feeling. He was a shadow of her former protector: dark, twisted, and obsessive. Cyclonis was all alone in this fight when the Rebellion rescued the leader of the Storm Hawks.

He could feel it, the heaviness of expectation in the air. The last battle. The smell of panic and disaster. Blood and metal.

Today was going to be a glorious day.

Today was a good day to die.

* * *

She intended to bond with the Dark Aerrow and after her repeated success with the preliminary training and flattered by his false attentions, she deemed him ready for the final stage.

Bowed upon his knees, the Sky Knight was strapped to a block that looked very much like a guillotine plate. Instead of a curved groove for the neck there were two smaller ones for his wrists, and thick, leather bands to hold his hands in place. Quality craftsmanship. Her new champion struggled a little when he saw the bonds, his green eyes flickered towards the exists as he was led up to the dais where Master Cyclonis awaited him, her hands held a pulsing purple crystal.

Oriole was not here, not one of the guards who nudged his back and ushered him up the steps. Steadily, the red-haired man faced the queen, the veins in his neck thrummed rapidly as the curls of panic began to churn inside his stomach. This was going to _hurt_. Either The Binding worked, which meant he would be bent and mutated into Cyclonis' new pet dog – or it didn't, which meant an agonizing crystallized death. Things didn't look too chipper for him either way, so he would have to stall.

The queen herself strapped him in, immobilized his movements as her magicks clenched his heart and forced him to stay still, the crimson glow of mind control held him. Her fingers shook with anticipation at the surge of power she expected from the ritual. Her mouth salivated just thinking about it, and Aerrow caught the glazed look about her purple eyes. She was distracted, daydreamed about her crystals. Once he was buckled in experimentally he wriggled his wrists, hoped to find some give. A little, but not much.

Master Cyclonis moved away and out of sight, then returned with two familiar objects. His twin blades, weapons of his choice taken from the Sky Knight since his capture. They looked just like the day she confiscated them, but he suspected tampering. Eagerly they were pushed into his hands, his fingers curled around the handles and the rare blue Striker crystals began to pulsate and glow, recognizing their owner.

The woman was going to kill him if she proceeded to attempt the ritual. She'd realize it as soon as The Binding started, and knowing her cruel, merciless nature would not stop once the scales fell from her eyes. She'd see into his heart and know her mind crystal failed to make him hers.

The Master knelt down beside him and shuffled forward, her knobbly knees tugged at the heavy fabrics of her gown.

He craned his neck far away from her, eyed her cautiously from his peripheral vision as she leaned forward as far as she dared to without looking too attached to her prisoner. Her sleep-deprived, sugar-tainted halitosis blew into his face like a cloud of syrup-laden flies. Aerrow's nostrils flared in reaction. The farce of caring was fading quickly, but she was too enamoured of him to notice the difference. Too close to victory now.

And she spoke to him, her purple eyes softened as she whispered, gazing upon his thinned lips.

"I don't want you to die, Dark Aerrow. I want you to stay here with me. Fight for me. Be my general." The Sky Knight swallowed the rising bile in his throat. This was too weird for him, to hear the confessions of an evil queen.

Her facial expression read like an open book.

 _I think I could learn to love you, if only you surrender your heart to me first._

Aerrow would rather die than love her.

Trapped and alone, Aerrow looked around for signs of help. There were two Talons that stood guard at each of the three entrances, and Master Cyclonis herself. The soldiers had their backs turned towards him as ordered, on the lookout for any who might interfere with the bonding process. The Sky Knight knew the Rebellion was here, hence the hurried and private ritual.

There was the click of heels and the rustle of a heavy cloak that dragged along the floor as the woman positioned herself somewhere in front of him, where she would observe his hands that gripped the twin blades and how the Striker crystals glowed. In her own hands she held the large purple crystal, the one that resonated with her the most, heavy and pulsing in sync with her heart. A grim smile that was all lips and no teeth, she activated the gemstone in her hands as it started to wobble, then vibrate, then shake violently with her power.

The Sky Knight cried out, yanked his wrists in the leather clasps. Something terrible was happening to him inside, it felt like his stomach was being eaten away by a concentration potion of acid. The bubbling and boiling cauldron swished and sloshed around, each spot of liquid burned a hole in his soft inner tissue. This was a bad, _bad_ case of heartburn – his mind joked as a new wave of pain blistered his middle. Goddamnit he was stronger than this! The greatest Sky Knight of all, just like his father. Just had to hold on a little longer until the Rebellion got here, so he couldn't die just yet.

His body was hot, scorching under his clothes. And his skin, it was _cracking_? Were those little red spiderwebs on his pale skin _his blood_? The cells of his body must be pulling apart, this did not feel _at all_ like the harmony he shared with Piper when they performed The Binding. A pressure was building inside him, dark and repugnant, and his body resisted with growing tension.

Was this what Carver felt like before exploding? Starling? How many before him experienced this torture? Why was he lasting so long, why hasn't he died yet? His hands shook wildly, sweaty and clammy from trying to maintain his grip on his weapons. The crystals fitted inside shone like beacons, bright columns of white-blue light that made him squint. Maybe if he dropped them, it would help? Grinding his teeth, he tried to loose his trigger finger, inched it away from the handle and the burning pain intensified. Aerrow yelled.

 _Nope, not doing that again._

His weapons had to be protecting him, slowed down the bonding process if not attempted to counteract it altogether. The Striker crystals came from _the Condor_ after all, and he believed they once belonged to his father. If only he could get his wrists out of these shackles without dropping the blades, he might have a chance.

"Why isn't it working!" Master Cyclonis shouted at the floating, spinning crystal between her hands. Accusingly she whipped her head at the Sky Knight and growled in frustration, purple eyes aflame. "I can't feel your heart or your mind! What am I doing wrong? They said you would love me if I did everything right, and I did!"

A foreign smirk appeared on his lips. Cruel and mocking. It was an expression Master Cyclonis wore often, but for the first time in her life she didn't like the feeling it gave her.

"What are you smiling about?"

If it was at all possible the twin blades blazed brighter, the white glow flowed down Aerrow's hands and wrists, cooled and mended his damaged skin. Crept up his arms and started to envelop his torso, battling the purple acid inside.

"I can't bond with you, and you know it."

She hissed and pushed the force of her power harder into the crystal. The man doubled over in distress, the healing glow receded down to his elbows. But against all odds Aerrow managed to struggle to an awkward standing position, pulled at his chafed and bloody wrists hard to free himself.

"Lies! You said you wanted me – completed the training – called me your queen."

"Like you said, I lied."

Master Cyclonis screeched in fury, threw the purple crystal from her hands and rushed forward towards him. A crazed gleam in her eyes, sharp fingernails rammed into the space of his chest as she grabbed hold of the red mind control crystal and _squeezed_. Aerrow screamed in agony, felt the crystal liquify into a crimson ichor in her clenched hand and dribbled over his heart. Adhered to the fleshy organ and hardened like a candy shell.

Flashes of scarlet materialized in his sight like a strobe light as his tormenter pulled out her hand and dived for the purple crystal once more. This time she would get it right, this time he had to follow her orders. She'd feel the surge of power once again, and whether the Dark Aerrow lived or died after The Bonding was no longer her concern. She'd milk this lying sack of shit for all he was worth, and she'd take every single one of those rebel traitors with her.

* * *

The Guardian, that liar. Purposely misled her with vague words and a smokescreen death. Said Master Cyclonis would die at the hands of a traitor, but didn't say whom would bring about the end of her rule. She assumed this person was one and the same.

It wasn't just one betrayer, but many. Atmosians, Cyclonians, Talons. Free Folk. The Dark Aerrow, the one destined to reign by her side, who refused to succumb to her will. She'd been blind to his dishonesty, wanted so bad for him to become her new champion. And the soldier called Oriole – revealed to be Piper of the cursed Storm Hawks.

A lovely blue crystal hung from her brown neck, and the power-hungry woman coveted it.

"I thought you were dead. They said your Sky Knight mourned for you for years."

The warrior woman replied much too calmly as she sized up her rival. "I began a new life as a Talon."

But the Dark Ace, that was one blow she never expected to feel.

As soon as she saw him enter her throne room heading a rabble of armed rebels and turncoat soldiers, she realized what he had done. The impenetrable queen glared at him and only him, looked into his gleaming red eyes and found him guilty. This middle-aged man was the crux of her downfall, she was sure of it. An oversight that evolved into her fatal flaw, her first champion capable of such foolish betrayal.

And all for what? Nothing worth her time.

She knew in her heart she was defeated. Seen how she, Master of Cyclonis, had been played for a fool. Piper crept around the steel throne and attacked her from behind, jumped onto her back and tore at her scalp. Wrestled the queen to the ground. She kicked the fallen purple crystal towards Aerrow who then twisted his body to bring it closer to him. Wrapped his legs around the thing as the two women scrabbled and punched and fought.

But Piper had been fighting her whole life: first as a Storm Hawk, then a rebel, and lastly a Talon. Master Cyclonis lacked the muscle and body mass to resist her strength, her mind consumed with crystal power, her body running low on junk food and sugar. Her royal finery hindered her, tangled her limbs as the female warrior wailed on her, each blow made contact.

Luckily for the queen reinforcements arrived. Broke through the crowd of liars and killed indiscriminately for their ruler. The Rebellion fought back. Armoured guards dragged her away from Piper, and she screamed at them to drop her and kill the Storm Hawks. Stop crowding around her like a bunch of stunned turtles, and bring them to her. She wanted Piper's crystal, she recognized the Aurora Stone immediately. The Binding was a failure, the Sky Knight cast out from her favour. Get her the Aurora Stone and she would finish this.

Admist the chaos and death, Aerrow and Piper were finally reunited. She freed him from his restraints and they hugged briefly, before he stumbled backwards and clutched his heart, a purple sheen to his glowing skin. One of his twin blades clattered loudly as it fell from his wrist and hit the stairs. The mind crystal overtook his heart, his will, and now the power of the failed Binding was killing him.

Without knowing the consequences Piper acted quickly. Ripping the crystal from her neck, she plunged the last remaining piece of the Aurora Stone into the purple crystal, the physical anchor to the negative connection. As the two objects touched, the point of contact emanated a white-hot glow and hairline fractures flew down the facets. The stone broke apart with a final split and an intense _boom_.

The force lifted anyone nearby up into the air and blew them apart, an expanding donut ring of crystallized dust and wind. The necklace flew out of Piper's grasp and slid across the floor. Scrabbling to her feet, Master Cyclonis dove underneath a pair of wavering, jelly legs and hands outstretched, reached for the piece of jewelry.

* * *

The Dark Ace felt – _satisfied_.

If he died here, it would be all right. It would be a fitting end. Finally he had her attention, something to believe in. A new purpose. A need. He had been a ghost for so long.

Master Cyclonis screamed traitor, pointed her bony finger at the lot of scum who surrounded her and her protective circle of followers. She had the Aurora Stone now, she was invincible. Faithless, disgusting maggots. How dare they turn on her after all she had done for them!

And you – she snarled and spat at the black-haired man – _You_. The worst of them all. She had let him live, that repulsive reminder of a failure. The only reason he lived for so long was because she thought she cared. He served her the longest and she rewarded him with a comfortable life. A gross mistake. The Dark Ace? The Dark Nothing.

He should have died first. All her original commanders outlived their purpose, and she had been sentimental and weak, allowed him to stay in her castle. He should have been outlawed, banished, left to expire in the Wastelands. Every day for the past ten years she had to look upon his face and be reminded of how close she had failed. It had been a hair's breath of victory for her when it should have been no trouble at all. It was his fault. He weakened her. Old news.

If she performed The Binding on the Dark Aerrow that first time ten years ago, her victory would have been secured from the start. But he was too obsessed with the Storm Hawk, blind to see his Talon potential, and his animosity had cost her a precious ally. Instead his anger kept the younger man out of her reach, prevented Master Cyclonis from seducing him to her side where he belonged, all because the Dark Ace was jealous of a better warrior. He clung to the delusion and glory of the old.

Well, there was no place for relics like him in her new empire, she would make sure of that once she finished with all these traitors. They would not take the throne from her. They would die first.

And the Dark Ace would be be the last. A quick death was too good for him. No, he needed to suffer for his ultimate betrayal. She was going to take him apart, inch by bloody inch. Strip the skin from his muscles, slice his muscles from his bones, and she would relish his pain. He would be awake for his mutilation. Screaming, begging for death. She would pluck out his eyes and replace them with crystals, carve out his chest and snap his ribs with her bloody hands. Push steel needles under his fingernails and watch him bleed, strapped to a metal table, and listen to his miserable litany of apologies.

Yes, he would be the last to die when this was all over. Master Cyclonis needed to set an example.

Raising the hand that held the necklaces, the woman cackled psychotically before she drove the fragment straight into her heart. The _power_ – O _h, the power in this stone!_ It was intense and limitless and absolutely – _divine_. That dark rush of invincibility infused her blood, drenched her fleshy tissue with chilled, numbing desire – and her mind could see it all. The chromatic prism of colours. The movements. Their fear. _Everything._

What the hell had Piper put into this stone? Whatever it is, it was unlike anything she had ever tasted before. So many sensations all at once: hot, cold, terrified, horny. Forget all the other crystals, this one was meant to be hers and hers alone.

* * *

It was not meant to be.

Master Cyclonis was not fit to rule, never had been and never will again. Aerrow had seen to that. And Piper too. Those damned Storm Hawks, curse them all to hell. Exhausted from battle but leaning against each other, they had the gall to preach at a time like this. They had a bond the queen never had, something she could never understand. Love.

The heiress howled in pain and laughter as she lay on the ground, her crushed torso stabbed her insides relentlessly. What a stupid concept. Love. Such a pathetic ideal for Atmosia's heroes. Their power merged together seamlessly as their hearts and minds combined into one, and with the doltish power of _love_ , brought her down low, even with the strength of the Aurora Stone coursing hot through her throbbing veins.

And now she was dying because of _love_.

Utterly pathetic.

The Dark Ace held her in his arms like a lover would, theatrically, in front of Atmosians and Cyclonians and the mottled mass of other individuals who all wanted her dead. It was perfect like this, absolutely sacramental. Her purple eyes fluttered in despair, endlessly annoyed the Dark Ace touched her after such unforgivable betrayal, but her body was too weak to protest. Her mind drained of power, her beautiful empire crumbled. All because of this man. This murderer.

The queen did not know which part he played in her downfall, only that he was involved. Maybe he knew about the prophecy all along. It was enough. In her last moments of life she remained pathetically human after all. Her visioned narrowed and she feared it. Did not want to go, not like this. Master Cyclonis was supposed to die a very old woman, surrounded by her children and grandchildren in her bed, all mourning the loss of their nation's greatest ruler.

Effigies would be burned in her honour everywhere across the Atmos, her name spoken with reverence. Colours of black and white, the shades of mourning, and her body would be cremated, her ashes spread to the winds. Her tallest daughter would have ruled after her, bestowed with the same title and disposition as her mother. She would be crowned queen tonight, after she had taken her last breath. And her champion, her royal escort, stood behind then all, one fist held over his dark heart, respecting her. The Dark Aerrow would live to be an old man, a weathered and cruel soldier who rarely spoke, ever obedient to his many children.

That was how she was supposed to go.

Misplaced trust. Regret. And anger, so much anger within her. How dare the Dark Ace turn against her, how dare he take her leniency for granted.

The Dark Ace heard none of her cries for she had not spoken. But he could gaze into her eyes and understand all. The queen hated him, more than ever before or would again. The man was okay with that. One arm supported her back while the other reached across her front, cradled the side of her head and tilted the woman towards him. Stupidly, he lifted her body an inch and pressed his chapped lips against her forehead in affection. The woman shrilled in fury underneath his embrace.

"This is the end, Master," he whispered, not caring who might hear them as he played thespian. The Dark Ace had always been dramatic, and this was their swan song. Finally he would speak and she would listen. His voice, his touch would be the last thing she felt. Not Aerrow's. Not that Sky Knight. He was the first champion and he would remind her.

"I'm the one who betrayed you. I found the Storm Hawks and I let them live. I saved Piper. I knew there were spies in your house, but I didn't stop them. What reason did I have to? I am worth nothing to you, but to them I was an irreplaceable ally. I told them what they wanted and I felt worthy again. I am a man of need, of desire. You didn't want to be human, you were obsessed with those crystals. Look what they did to you, you look like a miserable addict. You could have been beautiful."

"Your rule has ended, Master. You're just like me, relics of the old world and we have to die for the new one to be born. Atmosia's won, the Rebels have taken over. Aerrow isn't yours, but I could have been. I was your champion, your protector. I would have been proud to be your lover. If you wanted my body, I would have given it to you. If you needed heirs, I would have been your donor. You've never grasped the concept of love, have you? Well, there are many types of love. If I had been yours, mine would have been everlasting. We wouldn't be here now, and you wouldn't be dying."

"You fool," she croaked, her lips cracked and stained with drying flecks of blood. "You don't love me. You – love the idea of me."

"I could have loved you."

If she could Master Cyclonis would have laughed, and then she would have spat in his face.

Losing her strength fast, she fought against it. To her dying breath she would resist the Rebellion, the world that hated her.

And with her last breath her darkening eyes saw only him. Her only champion, the Dark Ace. Realized her ruinous mistake as she reinterpreted the Guardian's words. _A hero_. He was once a Storm Hawk, and the Storm Hawks were once heroes. Funny how everything came full circle.

The world kept closing in on her. She blinked it away. The one who held her bent close, laid a gentle hand against her neck. Drew her near so he could gaze into her purple eyes, and with an arrogant press of his lips bestowed her first and last kiss. A bittersweet motion for she did not kiss him in return.

The hand crept up the column of her throat, finger spread as it covered her nose and mouth, suffocating her. Maniacal tenderness in his eyes, the man bore down on her. She squirmed, legs kicking feebly. No, she could not die like this. Not by him. But he wasn't broken like her, didn't feel the full force of The Binding moments before. Her thin arms pinned against her sides, his entire body cradled her crippled frame.

 _Traitor._

 _You are no hero._

He could hear the crowds roar as he watched her die, and a hundred thousand voices thundered the call. In reality Aerrow and Piper screamed at him to stop, as if their intentions weren't to murder her all along. It was all right, he had volunteered for this. It was his decision.

The remaining Talons prevented such interruption, pushed back the morality-stricken rebels back with their weapons and their bodies. The ones who did not look at him for years. Circled the black-haired man who held a dying woman. The ones dressed in the green and red uniforms understood. He was being kind to their Master, it had to be done.

So many deaths in this circular throne room. Just one more...

One last gasp.

And he removed his hand from her stricken face. With gentleness he closed her purple eyes.

The Dark Ace heard the masses cry in unison.

Down with Cyclonia. Long live the Rebellion. May the Sky Knights live long.

Atmosia had finally won.


End file.
